


Slave to Love

by DarkDianora



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventures, D/s, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, True Love (tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDianora/pseuds/DarkDianora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a raid gone wrong, Rikk ends up in slavery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted in 2004 to the Nifty Archive under a different name. Beta'd by my friend Tim Mead. All remaining errors are mine. It's a work of fantasy, willing suspension of disbelief required.  
> This is the first story I ever wrote, and it shows. Especially in the beginning it is bumpy in places, and historically it isn't always correct. It gets better in the later chapters, though. You gotta give it a chance, I guess. :)

RIKK:

I hadn’t eaten in days. They didn’t bother force-feeding me. Not yet. They didn’t mind if I was a bit thin. But they made me drink some water every day. They didn’t want to lose their nightly entertainment, or their means of revenge.

Well, I had been the one unlucky bastard who’d got caught when we came to steal their women away, one day in the fall, two years ago. We were just a bunch of younger sons from various regions, who had done what our ancestors had been doing for ages. Only this time, we obviously had chosen the wrong village to attack. In the stories that were told at the campsites, the women had followed our fathers only too willingly. Here it had been different.

The second we emerged from the woods, somebody had rung the friggin’ alarm bell, and the men had come running back from the fields, much too soon. Yet we had managed to grab a gal each, and were on our way out, when I got hit over the head.

The first few days I had spent chained over a barrel, not able to move. I slept on it, got fed on it, got fucked on it. For a while I thought, and hoped, I’d die, too, chained to that barrel. Only I didn’t die. But I came pretty close. At least it felt that way. I tried to starve myself to death twice. They just waited till I was weak enough, and then stuffed food down my throat, like I was a goose.

Days later they freed me from that barrel and put me on a chain that they fastened around my right ankle. They warned me about resisting, though. One wrong move and I’d be back on the barrel, this time forever. I never resisted. When somebody entered the hut to fuck me, I got on hands and knees and offered him my ass. Or my mouth, whatever they wanted. I desperately wanted to die. It was the only thing I could think of.

I left the hut only once during all that time, to celebrate the anniversary of my capture. On that occasion I was passed around among then men, in the light of a giant campfire. That was seven days ago. I could take a lot by then; yet they’d managed to fuck me raw. The following days they let me recover. I used lots of that stinking salve they provided me with, but was still a bit tender back there. At least the pain was gone. This morning, they inserted that mean plug in my hole, preparing me for the night to come.

 

RAGEN:

The village was deserted. The peasants had fled, wisely. In the last two hours my men had gone through the small cottages and collected everything that might prove valuable or useful. It was a small heap, and mostly food. A few copper coins, some furs. One man, rather terrible to look at, clad in a threadbare, skimpy robe. He seemed to be of medium size, and rather thin, but other than that I could tell nothing about his looks. He was too dirty. Smelled something awful, too. Bolgar had found him chained to a pillar in a hut at the edge of the village. A prisoner, what else could he be.

No time to deal with him now. Together with the other spoils he was bound to a horse, and we rode on. When we made camp in the evening, I ordered two of my men to clean him up and bring him into my tent. As they returned with him, they were grinning broadly.

“What’s the matter, men? Has he told you a joke?”

One of them held a longish object into the air.

“We found that thing in his ass!”

It was a wooden dildo, crudely made, with a ridge that would make sure that it stayed where it was put. Looked quite uncomfortable. The prisoner showed no reaction, his gaze was directed down to the ground. He had dark hair, and his skin was very pale now that he was clean. Could be he had spent a long time in that hut. I put a finger under his chin, lifting his head. His eyes were blue, and there was no expression in them. Not really empty, no, more like guarded.

“On your knees,” I ordered. He obeyed instantly, and knelt there, waiting, his head bowed.

“Suck my dick.”

Without the slightest hesitation he opened my pants with nimble fingers and got my hardening cock out. He took it all. I wondered if he would be able to do that when it was fully erect. Well, I’d see. His mouth was warm, wet, and silky, his tongue smooth, working my pole diligently. He bobbed up and down on it expertly, without the least bit of teeth, and when it had reached his full length, he took it into his throat easily.

I grabbed his head, not too roughly, showing thus my appreciation, and began fucking his throat. His throat muscles really worked me. It didn’t take long, and I came, my dick buried deep in his throat. Ah, lovely. Very well done indeed.

“I’ll keep him for a while,” I told the pair, who’d enjoyed watching that little scene. “Put him in chains, and then you can go.”

I’d be back for more later. All that pillaging had made me hungry!

Munching on a lamb chop, I let that day pass again before my inner eye. All in all, it hadn’t been that bad. None of my men had been hurt, and we could use those blankets and provisions. And I really looked forward to seeing more of my prisoner, to trying out his ass. He’d sucked my cock so well, had to have had lots of practice. I wondered how he’d react when I fucked him, if he would get hard, and decided then that it didn’t matter. When I strolled back to my tent I even brought some meat and bread that I’d give him afterwards.

My men had chained him up good. Hands behind his back, feet together, ankles and wrists connected with a quite short chain. I unlocked them, and he stretched his limbs tentatively, groaning a bit. After a short while he got to his knees, and waited.

“Undress me,” I said.

He wasn’t very good at that, but he tried. Probably those villagers had kept him as a sex-slave only, always chained in that hut. His build would have been nice, if there had been a bit more meat on his body, and some more muscles. Well, he’d get them, working for me.

We were both naked now. I asked if he needed to piss or anything. He shook his head no. All that silence on his part unnerved me.

“Bilari’s guts! Can’t you speak?” I hollered at him.

He flinched and recoiled from me. I went after him. “What?!” I shouted. “Can you or can’t you?”

Trembling all over, he took a deep breath.

“I can speak. I’m sorry, master. I wasn’t allowed to, before.”

His voice was rough, unsteady. I could tell this was difficult for him. He must have been punished for talking, and punished hard. The multitude of scars on his back left no doubt about that.

“Well, you’re allowed to talk as it befits a slave,” I told him magnanimously, throwing him a challenging glance.

“Yes, master,” he replied, eyes again downcast.

“On your knees! Suck me!” I ordered.

He obeyed immediately, taking my already hard cock down his throat in one go. He WAS good at that! Then I ordered him on hands and knees, and prepped him fast but thoroughly, using some of the olive oil we’d acquired today. It was obvious that he had learned to relax his muscle.

I knelt down behind him and aimed my tool at his hole. Slowly I pushed in, all the way. He offered no resistance, but he was tight enough, his inner walls soft and hot, massaging my cock. I fucked him leisurely, for a long time. He never made a sound. That annoyed me a bit, so at one point I gave him a light punch to the kidneys, which elicited a short gasp from him. At the end I sped up and really slammed into him, and when I came it was explosive. I let my slave bear my weight for a while, till he started to tremble under me. Then I pulled out and stood up.

I cleaned myself up first, and then threw him the cloth. When he was done I gave him the food. Afterwards I allowed him into my blankets to keep me warm. I felt relaxed, comfortable.

 

RIKK:

He’s sleeping. Should I kill him now? And then what? Steal a horse, run away? Where to? I’m so weak. Finally, finally I’m out of that terrible hut. So far this has been much better. He didn’t hurt me. That one punch - laughable! After what I’ve been through he seemed nearly tender, considerate. He even prepped me with some oil. I guess I’ll wait for now. Try to shape up. I’ll have to see that he keeps me for himself. If he gives me to his men, I’m dead meat, so I’ll have to prove useful to him. Somehow. If only I weren’t so weak. So tired. I slept.

The next morning I changed my opinion of my master pretty fast. That asshole didn’t let me ride, no – I had to jog along behind him on a leash which was held by that big muscled animal that seemed to be his second in command. He was the one who’d gotten me out of that fucking hut. Bolgar, was his name. The ground was stony, and my bare feet hurt from the first step. And I became tired unbelievably fast. I’d been confined for so long, and the pace wasn’t exactly slow either. After a while my feet were killing me. I expected to see raw meat when I looked down, but they looked much better than they felt. It took another eternity until Bolgar shouted at Ragen, “He’s had enough! Look at his feet!”

Ragen turned around and scrutinized me derisively.

“Oh, already? Sooner than I thought. But then I guess he’s spent his time more riding than running lately!”

How his men laughed at that! I had to grind my teeth to keep my face from showing the hate that ran through my body like a heat wave. But Ragen had already turned his gaze away. Bolgar hadn’t. For a moment I was afraid that he’d seen through my façade. Then his icy stare changed into a lewd smile, and he winked at me suggestively. I swallowed. Took a step back, winced. Shit, my feet hurt! Grinning he gave my leash a little tug.

“Maybe you should get down on your knees for a bit, might be easier on your feet…”

He tugged again. I stumbled, but stayed upright. Helplessly I stared up at his bulky figure, then at Ragen for help. Only, that asshole was grinning, too. If they made me suck Bolgar now, it would be a question of a few hours till I would have to serve the rest of them, I thought. And I felt so weak. Way too weak to fight. Resigned, I sunk to my knees, waiting for it to begin. Bolgar directed his horse toward me, past me, to Ragen’s side. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I assumed they were discussing who’d get what of me.

“We’re taking a break, men. Eat something, and rest a bit!” Ragen shouted. Wow, they wanted to party. And I was going to be the main course. I couldn’t help it, tears were streaming down my face, and I managed barely to suppress my sobs. Yet I stayed on my knees. This would be hard enough without additional punishment.

Everybody got their blankets and provisions out. Ragen waved me over to sit with him. On my other side was Bolgar. Both offered me bits of their food. But I felt too apprehensive to eat. They exchanged glances. Then Ragen said:

“Relax, nothing will happen just now. Bolgar was merely jesting with you. Eat and rest!”

So I ate, drank some water, and got more tired the longer I sat there. After a while things were wrapped up. Bolgar reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. I nearly screamed; they hurt more than before.

“I think he’s done with walking,” Bolgar said.

“He can ride with you,” replied Ragen, “I’ll take your stuff.”

There it was again. Ragen was giving me away. And to that big brute! That one could break me in two, easily. Unhappily I let him help me to sit behind him. I tried not to touch him, but that was impossible. Reluctantly I held onto him. We reached higher terrain fast. I’d gathered that we were heading for a mountain pass. As we got higher, the temperature dropped, and I huddled closer to Bolgar’s warmth. After all, I was wearing only that long shirt, so my legs were freezing.

At one point he must have noticed my shivering, or maybe the chattering of my teeth was disturbing him. We made a short stop, and he asked one of the men who was about my size for trousers. Also he gave me socks and boots. When I attempted to mount the horse again, he made me sit in front of him, and wrapped me up in his cape. At that point I didn’t mind. I was so frozen, tired, my feet hurt from walking, my ass from riding, that I let him hold me gladly. In the end, the rocking, even gait of the horse lulled me into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted to the Nifty Archive in 2004 under a different name. Beta'd by my friend Tim Mead. All remaining errors are mine. This is a fantasy, it may require the willing--etc.

BOLGAR:

What a frail creature he is, Ragen’s new slave boy. So delicate, so defeated. So quiet. He never said a word the whole time. And he obeys so willingly. Obviously tries to be good. Has to be dead afraid of what might happen otherwise. Who knows what those villagers did to him? He feels good in my arms. I wonder if Ragen would share him. Why not? He’s done it before. We’re friends.

 

RAGEN:

What a lovely picture, that big bear Bolgar holding the little cub! Looks right somehow. Not much of a man, my new slave. But so accommodating. Can’t wait to slip into him again. Ah, tonight! I’ll have him lick me all over, and then I’ll fuck him. And I’ll take my sweet time doing it.

We rode on, and it got colder still. There were about two hours of daylight left, and one hour to go to a sheltered place we had used two years ago. It’s really only an overhanging rock, no more, but it will keep most of the wind and snow away.

We reached it in time, and I had the men set up the camp. The space was pretty much limited; our group had been smaller the last time. Bolgar rode up to me, the sleeping slave still in his arms.

“Ragen, there isn’t room enough for all the tents. Should we split up?”

“I’d rather not. Let the men share, if possible, and you and I take your tent. Mine is just too big. There’ll be room enough if we don’t put it up.”

Bolgar nodded his assent. Then he shook my slave awake. There was pure terror on the man’s face when he saw who held him, but only for a second, then he schooled his features back to the expressionless mask they usually bore.

We had him help us to erect the tent, and then went for food, leaving him to arrange the bedding. That was when he realized that Bolgar would spend the night with us. And the terror in his face was back. It was obvious what he was afraid of. He had to be thinking I’d share him with Bolgar, and maybe even with my men, so that he was everybody’s whore. Surely that was what had happened at the village.

When we returned with bowls of stew he had put the furs and blankets out, and was sitting on the naked floor, shivering. What a miserable creature, I thought by myself as I gave him his bowl. I detest weakness. But when I remembered how soft and pliable he had felt under me, I couldn’t despise him. Nor could Bolgar. Just the opposite. I waited for him to make up his mind. It was after we had eaten, that he did. Good that he waited till then, or my nervous slave wouldn’t have gotten his food down.

“Ragen,” Bolgar said, “I’d like to have a go at this guy. Would you mind sharing him tonight?”

 

RIKK:

‘No! No!’ my mind screamed. But my body stayed quiet, except for the trembling. But that was from cold. Or was it? I wanted to search Ragen’s face for his reaction to that question, but didn’t dare to. He didn’t keep us waiting for long.

“We’ll see about that, my friend,” was his enigmatic answer. He continued, “First take him outside, let him clean himself and the bowls. Show him where to get hot water for us.”

So that animal dragged me out into the cold, ordered me to undress, and rubbed me down with snow. He even took a handful and worked my genitals and asscrack with it. I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling at that treatment. It fucking hurt, my cock shriveled up to nothing. Even worse, after that ordeal he led me naked as I was to the fire with all the men around it, to get the sodding hot water.

Back in the tent I felt slightly safer. Ragen had a small fire burning. Still I was ice cold. Ragen held a beaker of warm spiced wine to my lips and made me drink it all. Immediately I felt warmer and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Then they undressed, and I started washing them, as best I could. First Ragen. After all, he was my master. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his shoulders were so much broader, and his arms and legs so muscled that I felt like a boy beside him. And his stomach, hard, rippling with muscles, no fat at all. His obvious strength made me shiver. And there were still areas I had to clean. His impressive cock, which by now pointed towards me, red, and angry. And his crack. I was unsure about that. Was I allowed to touch him there? Would he punish me if I did, or if I didn’t?

Probably he’d punish me anyway if he felt like it. So I dragged up the remnants of my courage and made short work of his private parts. When I was done, Bolgar stepped in front of me, a huge grin in his face, his equally huge tool waving at me. If I’d thought Ragen big, this man was a giant. A Nordic god, with his long reddish blond hair, and pale skin with golden fuzz all over his chest and a trail down to his golden pubes. A bear of a man, but his skin was surprisingly soft.

When I was doing his back and they couldn’t see my face, I closed my eyes for a moment and just enjoyed touching him. My heart was racing, my head spinning from the wine. It burned in my stomach. Of course, I hadn’t had alcohol in ages. Bolgar felt vibrantly alive under my hands, and that combination of utter strength and baby-soft skin really got to me. Yes, he was beautiful. They both were. And dangerous. And I was completely at their mercy. So I wrapped up that little moment and hid it deep inside me. I proceeded to finish Bolgar just as matter-of-factly as I had done Ragen. For a second our eyes met. His green ones were piercing me. I could read desire in them that he didn’t bother to hide. I guess we both knew in that moment that sooner rather than later he’d have me. I’d better resign myself to my fate.

Afterward Ragen had me build one big bed of all the furs and blankets. He lay down on it and pulled me with him. Bolgar followed. Instinctively I backed away from him, into Ragen’s arms. Oh, how warm his body was, in relation to mine! That was good! I snuggled closer.

“I think your slave doesn’t like me,” Bolgar said.

“Be glad,” Ragen replied, “he’s an icicle right now.”

“We must warm him up then,” Bolgar murmured suggestively, and inched closer.

Soon I was framed between two warm, hard bodies. I was lying on my side, my back to Ragen, so that his erect cock pressed into my crack, while I watched Bolgar like the rabbit watches the snake. He was so close, I started to squint. A shudder ran through me. I closed my eyes. He moved, and his cock touched me. Of course he was hard. As if on command, both began to buck into me. By now I was feeling very warm. After a while Ragen stopped the bucking motions and oiled my hole.

“Tell me when you skewer him,” Bolgar whispered, “I want to watch his eyes when you do it!”

“Ready . . . now!” Ragen whispered back.

“Open your eyes, slave! Look at me!” said Bolgar. “Look into my eyes!”

I did, and our gazes locked.

 

BOLGAR:

Damn, this is hot! These big, helpless, desperate eyes. He has no trouble taking Ragen, I can see that. It doesn’t hurt him at all. Wonder if he could take me just as easily. Don’t think Ragen will let me, though, not tonight. But this is good, too. Not letting go of the slave’s eyes, I jack my rigid dick. Suddenly he gasps, and makes a funny sound, something between a squeal and a sob. Bet Ragen just hit his nut. And again. Ragen’s obviously keeping his angle. I grin at him, and he grins back, twinkling at me.

‘Make him come?’ I mouth, and he nods.

So I let my own cock go. My body protests, but I really want to see the guy come, see him lose himself in pleasure, unwilling though he may be. With one hand I grab his dick, with the other I fondle his balls. Of course he’s hard, and slick with precum. You usually are when someone bangs your nut. And he’s trembling again. Does he think I’ll hurt him? Well, probably it has happened before. But I won’t. He really looks as if he’s been hurt enough. I want him to enjoy this. And I don’t want him to be afraid of me. Why do I scare him so, anyway? Must be my size, what else? He should be thankful instead, for how I treated him today.

By now he’s very hard, and constantly moaning. Ragen has sped up his thrusts. I check with him. Yeah, he’s ready, only waiting for me to make the slave come. I give a little more pressure, concentrating on the cockhead, while I massage with my thumb the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. And then it happens. His body tenses up, he wails, caught between lust and anguish, and warm semen splatters the blankets and my hand. I see his blue eyes cloud over and then he closes them. A shout from Ragen, and he’s coming, too. They make a great picture lying there, panting, depleted. But now I really need to get off, too. I roll onto my back and beat my dick with fast, urgent motions. It doesn’t take me long, and I follow their example. With a hoarse cry I explode, firing seven, eight shots of hot come, which rains down all over my upper body.

As I open my eyes again, Ragen’s slave is watching me, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. Sighing, I get up, soak some cloths in the rest of the now lukewarm water, and give them to each for cleaning up. The puppy actually retreats to the tent wall for a bit of privacy. Well, there is a difference between cleaning up your dick, and getting rid of cum somebody shot up your ass. He is a bit red-faced when he returns to lie between us. He moves hesitantly, too, unsure if he’s allowed in bed after the fucking’s done. The fire has died, and it’s getting cold in here. I know my way around Ragen’s things, so I get out warm clothes for him and the slave, and raid my own pack for my stuff. Then I lie down, put out the lantern, and we huddle close together under the furs. Mmh, this is nice, comfortable. Much better than sleeping alone.

“Thanks, friend,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome,” Ragen replies, and I can hear he’s smiling. The man between us trembles ever so softly, once in a while.

We go way back, Ragen and I, are friends, lovers in a loose kind of way. Never exclusive, yet always loyal. I’d die for him, and he for me. I wonder if I’ll ever get him to fuck me again, now that he has this sweet plaything.


	3. Chapter 3

RAGEN:

Until last night, I was the only one who knew Bolgar’s softer side. Now the slave does, too. At least he should know if he’s smart. I think he is smart. Only so very afraid and weak, it keeps him from thinking clearly at times. So Bolgar wants him, really wants him. I’m quite fond of my new slave, too. The sweetest ass I ever fucked, and just as hot as my old friend. Both of them together, a thrilling combination. When Bolgar takes him, I will watch. It’ll have to be soon, as long as the boy still is afraid of him. He treats him so nicely, it’s a matter of days. For today I let him ride with me. If Bolgar’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He keeps close to me, as alert as always.

“Slave,” I say to the man behind me, “do you have a name?”

Silence. Then he clears his throat. “Yes,” he whispers, “my name is Rikk.”

He sounded close to crying. The way got more difficult. Sometimes we had to lead the horses. At noon we reached the top of the pass. The wind was cold and sharp, so we dragged on. We went without break and made camp early, two thirds down the mountain. I asked Bolgar if he wanted to join us for the night, and he nodded happily. I think I heard Rikk sigh. But he said nothing and went about his duties. He is a fast learner, and eager to please. This time there’s no snow around and I allow him to use the warm water after us. Surprisingly Bolgar fetches the food himself, two large bowls of stew. He and I have dressed again, while Rikk kneels beside me naked.

“He’s way too bony,” I say to Bolgar, who in return looks at me questioningly. So I continue. “I shouldn’t even offer you that scarecrow. But if you want, you can have his ass tonight.”

“You know I want him,” Bolgar replies. “And talking about ‘bony’, why don’t we feed him?”

He holds his full spoon at Rikk’s mouth. My slave hesitates for all of a second, then he submits and opens his mouth. Must have realized that it might be better not to enrage Bolgar. Alternating, we feed him. As a special treat I bring on the bottle of honey and thyme liqueur we found at the monastery weeks ago, and we each take a healthy sip. Rikk coughs a bit.

Then we let him build one big bed while we shed our clothes, and I order him to lie in the middle of it. As soon as we’re naked Bolgar and I join him, framing his scrawny body. He’s cold and shivers a bit. Of course he feels the cold more. There’s no fat on his body. And he’s afraid, or at least apprehensive.

“Let’s get him warm,” I say to my friend. Bolgar nods. Together we rub Rikk’s body down. When the shivering stops our rubbing becomes more gentle. We touch him everywhere, and he bears it and doesn’t move at all. He’s pliant under our hands, my submissive slave. I must say I enjoy this. Our life is rough, as is the climate so far north. We go on raids, fight. When we’re at home the women have gotten accustomed to having their own way in our absence. Peace is rare. But with this slave, I’ve found peace. In his mouth, that opens so easily for my cock, in his accommodating, available ass. No fights, no discussions. He obeys. He’s mine, at my mercy. I’m used to having power, but in this I revel. I think Bolgar does, too. Additionally, Rikk seems to have awakened his protective instinct. Bolgar’s tender with him, so caring. I love to watch them together. When Bolgar takes him tonight, I might get off just from looking.

“Let’s start the fun,” I say, throwing Bolgar the small bottle with the oil.

“I’ll put that aside for later,” he answers, a fire gleaming in his eyes. Then, to Rikk:

“On your back, slave. Knees up and apart. Hold yourself open.”

Rikk complies, with eyes closed. He’s breathing fast. I can see it’s difficult to hold that position, so I put a folded piece of fur under him. Bolgar gives me a sweet smile, and I smile back at him. In that moment I realize how much I love that man. Bolgar and I are more than casual sex partners. Does he know it? I search his face for an answer. He must see something in my eyes, because now he leans down to me, and I receive a warm, tender kiss. And I know.

Bolgar focuses back on Rikk. Settling down between his widely spread legs, he pulls his cheeks even further apart. Then he gives him a long lick all along his crack, over his pucker, up to his balls, making him gasp. And again. He sucks his balls in his mouth, alternating. He sucks on them with relish, bathing them in his spit, while my slave can’t suppress his moans any longer. His cock isn’t fully hard yet, but it’s nearly so. Full and heavy, but not rigid, it lies on his belly, moving up and down in the fast rhythm of Rikk’s breathing.

With one wet lick Bolgar leaves Rikk’s marbles and moves a bit down, and without further ado he starts plunging his tongue down that inviting chute, hard and fast, eliciting the most interesting sounds from my slaveboy. In spite of himself Rikk pushes back at him, at first barely noticeably, but after a while he loses all his restraint and bucks wildly under Bolgar’s ministrations.

Suddenly my friend stops. My slave looks up at him, eyes wild, his whole body bathed in sweat.

“Shall I fuck you now?” Bolgar asks him, sweetly.

To my surprise, Rikk nods.

“Say it!” Bolgar commands in a soft, tender voice. “I want to hear you say it, slave!”

“Fuck me,” Rikk whispers, and there’s need and desolation fighting on his face. I let go of his legs and put one arm under his neck instead, cradling his head. With the other hand I turn his face toward me, so I can kiss him. He opens up to me immediately. As our tongues touch I feel the vibrations of his moans.

By Bilari, this man has a sweet mouth! Welcoming. He responds to my kissing, his tongue never leaving his mouth. Out of nowhere a hand grabs my straining cock, holding it in a deathgrip. I look up. It’s Rikk’s hand. I can imagine he needs something to hold on to, because Bolgar’s giant weapon’s there, red, hard and angry, glistening with olive oil, waiting at his entrance. Just as I look, he starts to press in. Rikk’s sphincter gives, and gives. I know how he must feel! That cock always takes me to my limit. Ever so slowly, but without pause, Bolgar enters that accommodating hole. When he’s completely inside, both of them sigh. Just as slowly Bolgar pulls out again, leaving only the head of his weapon inside. Rikk hisses, moans, his body goes absolutely rigid for a few seconds. Our gazes meet. The tight hold my dick has been in changes into a milking motion. So good! I return the favor, and he gets rock-hard in no time. Now Bolgar begins a slow fuck. Slow, but relentless. All the way out, all the way in. Rikk moans, bucks, shudders under the assault but never stops jacking me. Sometimes his eyes are closed, sometimes he looks at me. Never at Bolgar. Why does he resent him, but not me? My friend notices it, too.

“Look at me, slave,” he growls, slamming extra-hard into Rikk’s chute. He has to do that several times, until finally my slave obeys. I’m jacking him faster now, too. So Bolgar’s eyes burn into Rikk’s, and he speeds up, and suddenly they both cry out and come. That picture’s so incredibly erotic, it brings me over the edge, seconds after them. My come splatters on Rikk’s stomach, mixing with his own. Bolgar pulls out of him, and we take the slave between us and spread the come all over him.

“Thanks for sharing,” Bolgar whispers.

“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” I reply.

“Yes, very,” my friend agrees.

“You want him?”

Rikk stiffens between us. Anxiously he implores me, “Please master, don’t give me away. I beg you. Please. I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll always obey you!”

“I know you will,” I assure him. “I’m not talking about giving you away. Bolgar, what I’m trying to say is, I liked what we did now, and last night. I wonder if we could come to an agreement, sort of.”

Bolgar listens to me attentively. “Go on,” he encourages me, while he absent-mindedly continues massaging come into Rikk’s skin.

So I do. “I have the feeling you really like my slave.” He nods. “I’m willing to share him with you, but…” I have to pause, this isn’t easy for me. Having taken a deep breath I rush on. “Bolgar, I don’t want to lose you over him.”

Bolgar closes his eyes, and smiles slightly, shaking his head. My stomach churns.

“Ragen, if I had to choose between the two of you, I’d always take you over him. You’re my friend, my brother, my lover. He’s just a fucktoy, though a lovely one.”


	4. Chapter 4

RIKK:

“…just a fucktoy…” I should have been desolate to hear it spoken that way, but the only feeling I could muster was that of immense relief. For a moment I had thought Ragen would do it, give me away to Bolgar. Alone his size had made me fear him, even if he never hurt me. Now, after that remark, I was doubly glad I belonged to the other man. Maybe to him I was a bit more than a mere commodity which would be discarded when it became boring. I wondered how long it might take for me to recover some strength and get in better shape. Weeks, probably. If they continued to treat me well. For now I was completely dependent on their good will.

Lying close to me, one on my right, one on my left side, the two powerful warriors fell asleep. I must admit, I didn’t feel like “just a fucktoy” when Bolgar took me tonight. They were both so tender and caring with me. Like they – cherished me? I must be imagining things. Wishful thinking, maybe? That’s rich! I, wishing to be their lover? When hell freezes over! I wanted to be free and never see them again! Go home to my family, my friends! I wanted to decide who fucked me! Oh, Bilari’s guts! Forget that. I was tired, not thinking clearly. The dried come on my skin itched like a bitch. Still, I fell asleep fast.

I was awaken roughly. Somebody pulled me upright, screaming into my ear. Felt like Bolgar. It was dark, I couldn’t see anything. But it was his voice, telling me to – run? There was a fire outside. I heard men yelling, the clashing of swords. Something soft and heavy was put in my hands. “Take the fur,” Bolgar screamed, “and hide! We’ll come and get you when it’s safe. If we don’t come, go home! Run, dammit!”

He gave me a push and I ran, the fur pressed to my body. There was fighting everywhere, but Ragen’s tent was at the edge of the camp, so I was out of immediate danger fast. The flames in the camp were growing higher. I could see boulders in front of me, lots of them, an ocean of rocks. I scrambled over them, between them, as fast as I could, which wasn’t too fast. I was still weak, and the fur lay like lead in my arms. Also, it was getting darker and darker the further I got away from the camp. When it felt as if another step would kill me, I collapsed where I was standing. Panting and wheezing like a woman in labour I spread Bolgar’s fur out. There was something wrapped up in it – the pants and the long shift. I put the things on, then I cuddled up inside the fur. My body was hot and sweaty from the exertion, and without the fur I’d sure have gotten at least a terrible chill. The sounds of fighting seemed to come from far away. There was no way for me to tell what was going on at the camp. What was I to do? Bolgar said they’d come for me, didn’t he? I was relieved to know that. Then it dawned on me, that I was here, alone. Free at the moment. I could just go and run away! As soon as I’d have gotten my breath back, anyway. Yeah, and break my stupid neck in the dark. No, I’d have to stay put. For now anyway. The reasonable thing to do would be to get some more sleep. Yes, I’d try to sleep. Didn’t think I could though. But I’d try. I cuddled up some more inside the fur. It was warm and cozy, and it smelled like Bolgar and Ragen, even a bit like me.

I awoke to a grey dawn. Milky fog lay all around me, and it was eerily silent. I was hungry, but not cold, thanks to the fur Bolgar had given me. What the hell had happened? Why hadn’t they come yet to fetch me back? Maybe they were waiting for the fog to lift? What if they didn’t come? What if they were dead, or taken prisoners? He said I shouldn’t go back to the camp alone. In fact, he’d told me to go home.

Well, there was no choice anyway. Not with the fog. I huddled under the fur and slept a bit more. When I awoke the next time, the fog was gone and a pale sun lit the sky. I was terribly thirsty, so I let a bit of snow melt in my mouth. Not too much, I'd heard one could get stomach pains from that. The sun rose higher, and I was still in that place, waiting. I couldn’t be that far from the camp, could I? My progress in the darkness must have been slow last night. Shouldn’t they have come looking for me by now?

But nobody came. The sun reached its zenith. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get back to the path anyway. I wasn’t sure about directions, but remembered that I had run mostly uphill last night, so I opted for down now. I walked for some time, and hoped I was getting closer. But I couldn’t hear a thing that would indicate human presence. There was only the screeching of birds. Pretty loud they were, too.

I looked up. Shit! Those birds were vultures! And they were gyrating above the place where our camp had been. Oh Gods! A dreadful sense of foreboding filled me, and I ran, stumbled toward the camp as fast as my feet would carry me. There was a lump of something between two boulders. I was already past it, when I recognized the thing. Ragen’s backpack. I picked it up and threw it on my back. Then I hurried on.

I reached the camp. One glance was enough to tell me no one was alive there. The place was scattered with bodies, the sickly sweet, coppery tang of blood permeated the air. I went from corpse to corpse with growing apprehension getting more and more afraid of finding Ragen and Bolgar among the dead. There were so many corpses. Some with terrible wounds, some obviously had been slaughtered after their capture; their hands were still bound.

I didn’t find them. They had to be alive, then. I fell to my knees and cried. For the dead, for Bolgar and Ragen, and for myself. Never in my life had I felt so lost. Around me, the vultures continued picking at dead eyes. It was sickening.

Finally I shook myself out of my stupor. What was I to do now? I had to get away. I needed a weapon, food, water. Clothes! Damn. I absolutely needed something for my feet, they were hurting bad. Gingerly I began searching the bodies for useful stuff. I found several pieces of warm clothing, but neither food nor money or weapons. There was one corpse I’d been reluctant to touch. It just smelled and looked too awful. He lay half under a collapsed tent, had a terrible gut wound, and his innards were spilled all over the ground. I searched him, the bile rising in my throat. And I found a dagger! As I fumbled to unfasten the belt with the scabbard, the corpse moaned!

In terror I jumped back at least two feet. How could the man be alive with that dreadful wound? Then he even started to move! An arm came up toward me! An arm with black skin! Oh kindly powers, what had I done? Was that man turning into a demon before my eyes? Was this his revenge for disturbing his rest? I retreated from the body, shivering with fear. The body moved some more, and more black became visible. And I realized that it was not the corpse, after all, that was turning black! It was someone, or something, that had been lying hidden under the tent and the dead body. Now it stood up. It had to be a demon, it was as dark as the night. Its clothes were torn to rags, with blood and slime all over them, and Gods, it stank! And it came closer, and it reached for me! I stumbled backwards, away from it. And landed flat on my ass, as my foot caught on a rock. Ouch, dammit!

The demon’s eyes got big and round. Then it started giggling maniacally,’ till it was whooping with laughter. Its laugh was that of a boy, and now that I really looked at it, its body was that of a boy’s too. Only he was black, and the dark cloud around his head was curlier than any hair I’d ever seen. His giggling was so infectious, I just had to join him. Once I started I couldn’t seem to stop. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time, and I hooted and whooped till I felt quite weak. It took a tremendous effort to stop it. For the boy, too. ‘Cause he had to be a boy. I’d never heard of giggling demons. Whatever he was, he was human, and he was a child.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“My name is Malik,” the boy said. He gave me a close look, and continued, “I was the property of this stinking bastard for the last three years. I tried to escape during the attack yesterday. When he” - he pointed at the corpse - “was hit he fell on me and crushed me. I think I hit my head, too. Hurts a bit. Who’re you?”

“I’m Rikk. I was a prisoner of the group that was attacked. Do you know what happened with the survivors?”

“They’ll have taken them. Probably they’ll sell them as slaves. It’s what they do. Why do you want to know? They’re gone, and you’re free now. That’s what counts.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Sure I am. Only problem is, we still gotta get down this friggin’ mountain. Let’s make use of the daylight, and hurry up and get away from this cursed place.”

I could only agree. All these bodies, the smell of death, the vultures, it really gave me the creeps.

“Okay. I’ve already gathered clothing for myself. You should get cleaned up and do the same, Malik. In the meantime I’ll pack a tent and blankets for us.”

The boy nodded and started pulling those awful rags from his body. I looked away quickly and got busy. Since it had been at the edge of the battle ground, Bolgar’s tent had survived the battle unscathed. I decided to pack everything that might prove useful from Ragen’s and Bolgar’s things into Bolgar’s backpack. Under the blankets I found a little bottle. I felt a tightening deep in my stomach. It was the bottle with the olive oil. The oil that Ragen had used to prepare me that first day. The oil Bolgar had used to lube his cock with last night. I clenched my fingers around it. There, on my knees between the blankets, I stared at that small bottle as if it contained all the secrets of my soul. And I started to cry.

Suddenly Malik was at my side. “Rikk, what’s the matter with you?”

Yeah, what was the matter with me? Was I indeed crying for those two men who had enslaved me? Who had hurt me? Used me? Fucked me? Yes, and who had been tender and caring and loving at the same time? Who had made me feel so sheltered in their arms… Bolgar’s voice came back to me, ‘I’d always take you over him. You’re my friend, my brother, my lover. He’s just a fucktoy…’

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Malik, these two men that owned me…” I hesitated.

“What’s with them? Shit, are you crying because of them? You miss them, or what? You want them back? Shit, you’re a slave at heart!”

“No, I’m not! But they treated me well!”

“Well, and? My master spoiled me rotten! Still I’m glad the bastard’s dead! I want to be free!”

“You think I don‘t? But I want to be with them, too.” At this point I was sobbing harder than before.

“Oh, shit, man. I don’t get it, really! You know what? Let’s get going, and you can tell me about those guys on the way, okay?”

Together we fixed two packs, a smaller one, containing Bolgar’s tent, for Malik to carry, a bigger one (with Ragen’s tent) for me. Then we set off. As we trod down the stony path, I told Malik what had happened to me. Of course I didn’t tell him all the details, he was just a kid after all. When I described how Ragen had leashed me to his horse, Malik giggled. When I described how they had rubbed me down with snow, he laughed right out. “Hey, I bet they warmed you up afterwards! Am I right?”

I nodded. Color rose into my cheeks as I remembered just how they had warmed me up.

“You’re blushing!” Malik crowed. “That’s so cute! You’ve got the hots for these guys!”

“I don’t! What do you know of these things anyway!”

“More than you, obviously,” he muttered under his breath.

I chose not to comment on that. What would he know? He was just a kid! But what a kid! I just couldn’t help looking at him time and again. For several reasons. Of course, there was the color of his skin. He had explained that to me. In his country everybody was dark. I had asked if it was very hot there, and he’d said, yes, it was. Maybe that explained it. Then there was the thing with his age. When I asked he’d said he was 20, which I couldn’t believe. He looked like 15, at most. Again he’d explained that his people were shorter. Now, the last reason I couldn’t keep my eyes from him, was that he was so cute! The cutest kid I’d ever seen. Even in these oversized clothes he’d found for himself. His eyes were black as coal, his lips full and red, his hair like the fur of a black lamb, soft, and curly looking, as if it was made to be tousled and carded.

I was shocked to my core when I realized that my feelings toward him weren’t fatherly, or brotherly. Not completely, anyway. Sure, I felt protective over him, but that was not all I felt. I didn’t want to dwell on that. Hopefully, if I ignored it, it would go away.


	5. Chapter 5

RIKK:

During the afternoon the sky had changed from blue to grey. Wind had come up and brought clouds with it. Thankfully we were farther down now and it wasn’t quite as cold as it had been. The sky was getting darker by the minute, ominously so. We decided to look for a suitable place to put our tent up. The best we found was a group of crippled firs that grew in the shelter of a big boulder. The power of the wind increased, and made our task rather difficult. By the time the tent was erected, rain had already set in. Just as we scrambled into our tent, the floodgates of the sky really opened and torrents of rain began to fall.

We had been lucky, but our clothes had still gotten very wet in the process. Our teeth were chattering audibly. It was so cold!

“We can’t keep our clothes on,” Malik stated. “I know what to do. We need to huddle under the blankets and whatever you got there, and put the clothes at our feet. So they’ll dry during the night.” He shuddered, adding, “So, let’s build a nest, and get me warm! I want something to eat, too! We’ve got food, I hope?”

What a spoiled brat! Sadly, he was right. I spread out the fur and every blanket we had. We undressed, and while I made an effort not to look at him, I really felt his eyes on me, checking me out. He wouldn’t be able to see much, as it had gotten quite dark already, but it still made me nervous. When I finally huddled into the nest, I was ice cold. Malik was, too, like I couldn’t fail to notice when he pressed his frozen body into mine.

“Get me warm!” he whined. So I put my arms around him, gathered him closer to me, and rubbed his back with my hands. We were both trembling with the cold, and our teeth were chattering. It took us forever to get warm, and I couldn’t help thinking how good it would have been with Ragen and Bolgar here at our sides; they were both like furnaces.

“I’m hungry,” Malik’s voice interrupted my wayward musings. “What have we got?”

“Not much. I didn’t find anything in the camp. We’ve got only what was in Bolgar's backpack.”

“Bolgar? Who's that again?”

“One of the men whose prisoner I was. When the attack began last night, he threw me the fur and told me to run. And I think he hid his backpack among the rocks, too, so I might find it.”

“Really? Why should he do that for a prisoner?”

“He wanted me to be safe, I think. He knows I’m no fighter, and in poor shape. He said he was going to come for me when it was over. But he never did. Well, I was his and Ragen’s property. They just didn’t want me to be damaged, is all.”

“Still, it was a nice thing to do. Now check that pack, will you!”

“I’m checking! There’s what feels like old bread, two, no, three apples, what’s this, could be cheese. That’s all. Oh, a flask with water, too.”

“Not what I’m accustomed to! It’ll have to do, I guess.”

We ate an apple each and some of the bread. I gave Malik the flask and he drank deeply. He passed it back to me, giggling a bit. I drank, too. Only, it was no water, it was wine. Strong one, too. I coughed. Well, hopefully it'd warm us up. During our meal our arms and hands had gotten very cold again, so we hurried to get back under the blankets when we were done. Malik fell asleep quickly. I lay there, couldn’t sleep at all. I felt miserable and lost, and all I could think of was how good it had been sleeping with Ragen and Bolgar, and that I wanted them back, and then I hated myself for wanting them.

What a fool I was. What a weakling. A fucktoy. I hadn’t always been like this. I knew I used to be like other men my age, cocky, confident. I would never be like that again. Not after what had been done to me. But surely I could be more than this. I wanted to be more. More than just their fucktoy. A daring thought entered my mind. What if I found them, and managed to free them? Things would have to be different then. Maybe. And even if not, at least I would have them back! But could I really do that? What if I got caught? I broke out in a cold sweat at that thought. No, I couldn’t risk that. Absolutely not. But the idea wouldn’t let me rest.

I must have fallen asleep at one point, ‘cause I was dreaming. I was lying in Bolgar’s arms and Ragen was sucking me. And it was so good. He'd taken me deep, my whole cock was enveloped in moist, soft heat. He hummed around me and I wanted to grab him by the ears and fuck his face. But I couldn't move one bit. Bolgar held me in his strong arms, kept me in place. I could feel how powerful he was. I loved being held like that. It made me feel so safe.

Now Ragen was swallowing around me. I wanted to scream but somehow couldn't. He pulled off again, there was his breath caressing my wet cock, and then he took me in again, swallowed me down again, and my balls tightened so fast it hurt, and then I came and came down his throat screaming myself hoarse in the process.

I was still screaming when I woke up. And there was still something wet and hot engulfing my cockhead and gulping down my come. Who the hell???

Oh, Gods! Oh, no! Please, anyone tell me this hasn't happened! In the dim light of the dawning day I saw a small figure moving under the blankets. "Malik!" I groaned.

A broadly grinning dark face came up from under the blankets. Black eyes gleaming with smugness. A very red tongue licking pearly come from pearly teeth and very red, swollen lips. "MALIK!" This time I yelled.

"What's up, Rikk? Didn't you like your wake-up call?"

"Wake-up call?" I spluttered.

"Why, yes! My master loved it! I woke him every morning like this! He said I was the best cocksucker he ever had. Of course I've had years of practice."

I was shocked, to say the least.

"Oh, you poor boy. I'm so sorry! That must have been terrible for you! But these times are over now. You don't need to do these things anymore."

Malik looked disturbed. "I don't understand - didn't you like it? You came! Wasn't I good?"

I hurried to reassure him. "You were very good. But that's not the point. You shouldn't do these things. It's not right! It was wrong of your master to use you like that."

"But - but…I like it! I like sucking, and fucking, too!"

I thought I was going to faint. "Did you say 'fucking'?"

Malik nodded.

"I don't believe it! That monster fucked a child?"

"I'm not a child! I'm 20! And yes, he did! But I didn't escape because of that! I just wanted to be free! Now I am free. I'm going to do what I want. If I want to suck cock, I will. If I want to fuck, I will!"

"But not with me!" I yelled right back, getting now pissed myself. To think that I'd felt sorry for the brat!

Meanwhile he'd gotten up from under the blankets. He stood there naked, proud, fists on hips, glowering at me.

"As if you're the one to talk!" he sneered. "I heard you moaning their names when I was doing you! 'Oooh, Volga! Aah, Ragen!'"

"It's Bolgar, not Volga, you brat! The Volga is a river in Seria! And it's not the same! I'm a grown-up, I know what I do. You obviously don't. You need someone to take care of you, someone to prevent you from getting in trouble!"

"And you think you're the one to do that? Well, I've news for you, Rikky: You're not my master! I won't let you order me around! It's going to be just the other way: If you don't do what I say, I won't tell you where the slavers are bound, and you'll never see those guys again you're pining for! How's that?"

I had heard only one thing. "You know where they're going?"

He smirked triumphantly. "Yes, I know. And I can lead you there. But only if you do what I say, from now on. Do we have a deal?"

I didn't need to think about it. I nodded my head yes.

"I've got you by the balls!" he cried out triumphantly. He strutted the two steps toward me. "Give me proof, slaveboy. Suck my dick!"

What was I to do? I told myself that me sucking him wasn't as bad as having him suck me, and went on my knees in front of him. His cock was small, slender, and very hard already. I had no trouble taking him in one go. He began to leak precum immediately, and it was sweeter than any I'd ever had. I still was angry and agitated, so I attacked him with a vengeance. But it wasn't enough for him, 'cause he took hold of my head and started to fuck my mouth hard and fast. Even if he was small, he had me gasping and spluttering around him. In no time he came in my mouth, four, five jets of the sweetest cum, and he yelled out loud in his high, boyish voice.

"Lick me clean," he ordered, "my balls, too." I did. "Enough." At last he was satisfied. Strangely enough, I was hard again.

He laughed out loud when he saw it. "You're forbidden to jack off, slaveboy. I want you hot and horny for tonight." My cock twitched. And I hated it.


	6. Chapter 6

RIKK:

For breakfast we shared the last apple, the rest of the cheese, and some bread. We each had a few sips of the wine, too. Then we checked our clothes. They had nearly dried over night and were only a little bit clammy when we put them on. We packed everything and got on our way. The clouds were gone now and the sky was a clear blue. It was warmer than it had been in days.

On our way downward we came across a little stream where we drank as much as we could. Also we filled Bolgar's flask up. Malik muttered something about diluting the wine, but he didn't stop me. He hadn't given me any orders at all since he'd made me blow him in the morning.

When the sun was at its peak we made a short stop and ate the last of the stale bread, washed it down with the diluted wine. We marched on. We were halfway down the mountain now, and in woody regions. While walking, we picked berries and mushrooms I knew were edible. In the late afternoon we were rounding a bend on the winding path, when suddenly Malik grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I landed on my ass with a dull thud.

"What's up, dammit?" I asked, annoyed.

"Not you, obviously! Didn't you see it? They're in front of us, just two slopes down the path!"

I scrambled to my feet and approached the corner slowly. Then I craned my neck to look around it. Malik was right. I could see a group of maybe thirty men, all on horses, and between them about twenty men walking in chains. I even thought I could recognize Bolgar, towering above the other men with his blond head. My heart beat painfully in my chest. I just wanted to run down to him and throw myself into his arms, or at his feet, whatever…

"What now?" I asked Malik.

"We need to be careful, keep our distance. Follow them till it becomes dark and they make camp. Usually they put up a guard or two. If it's only one, we maybe can take him out?"

"Yes, hopefully!" I said. My doubts must have been obvious from the tone of my voice.

"Well, or we can sneak up to the prisoners…"

"And do what? They're in chains, dammit! Even if we were strong enough to break those, we'd wake everyone up doing it!"

"We won't have to break them - look what I've got here!" With a very smug grin Malik reached into his oversized pants and produced a small metallic object. A key!

"Is it…."

"Yep! The key to their chains. I took it from my master before we left yesterday. I thought I'd need it if they caught me again."

I couldn't help myself, I just had to hug him. "Oh, dear boy, that's wonderful!" I exclaimed.

"Shh! Not so loud, idiot!"

"Oh, sorry! But with this key we may be really able to free them!"

"Not if they hear your shouting and catch us! We need to be very careful! And, you should ask yourself if you really want those men free. Remember, they took you prisoner, held you as a slave! What tells you they won't do it again?"

"You don't know the whole story, Malik. They freed me of a situation that was a lot worse, and they treated me fairly well, all in all. It were only a few days I was with them, but…," I hesitated.

"But what?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, and I'm fooling myself. But, uh…it wasn't only that I belonged to them. It rather felt like I belonged with them. You'll call me an idiot, again, and probably you're right. But I'm willing to take that chance. I want them back!" I took a deep breath.

"Very well," Malik said, smiling up at me knowingly, "I'll help you. We'll free your men."

So, we followed the slave-traders for the rest of the afternoon. Their pace was quite slow, so I was able to keep up. We made sure we didn't come any closer to them and checked carefully before each turn of the path. The sky had become cloudy again and the air smelled like rain. As the first drops started falling, they set up camp. Malik and I huddled under the plane of Bolgar's tent, wrapped up in his fur.

"The rain will help us," Malik remarked. "They'll go to sleep early, and the guards won't be able to see or hear us that easily."

While we waited for the camp to settle down we drank the rest of the watered wine. And we waited. When the fires in the camp were burning low, and we couldn't see anybody moving there, we figured it was time to go. We decided to leave the tent and our things behind and took only one backpack with us.

The rain had gotten worse, but I didn't mind at all. It wasn't as cold as the night before, and Malik was right, the rain was our ally. We reached the camp without any incidents. Slowly we went around it. There wasn't even a guard. Probably they felt secure enough, thinking that nobody had escaped the attack in the mountains. They had chained their prisoners together in the middle of the camp.

"Give me the key," I whispered toward Malik.

"No, let's go together!" he replied.

There was no time to discuss this. Side by side we crawled on our stomachs around the tents toward the prisoners.

All stayed silent, well, safe for the splashing the rain. Of course we'd been drenched long since. We were only two or three yards away from the group of prisoners, and I was wondering how to make them aware of our presence, when I heard a whisper.

"Who's there?"

Without thinking I replied, "It's me, Rikk."

"You idiot!" I heard next. "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to run?"

"Bolgar? Is that you?"

"No, it's Bilari's hairy grandma. Of course it's me. Again, what are you doing here?"

"We're going to free you. We've got a key. Tell everybody to be quiet!"

I crawled closer to him, fumbled for his chains and finally found the keyhole. I inserted the key without problems, but when I began to turn it, the sonofabitch began to creak. Immediately I stopped. Damn. We needed fat, or oil! Suddenly I remembered something - the little bottle of oil I'd found in Bolgar's things. I had put it in his - now my - backpack.

"Malik," I whispered, "there's a little bottle in my pack. Can you get it?"

"Sure," he replied, searched my pack deftly, and in no time I held the oil in my hands. I applied some to the key and tried again. It opened without any noise and Bolgar's hands were free. "I'll take care of the rest," he said," you sneak back and hide behind the trees. I'll let you know when it's safe to come out."

We did as he had said, and soon Malik and I were crouching under a group of bushes that provided a bit of shelter from the rain. Though it wouldn't have been possible for us to get any wetter than we already were. There we waited for the things to come.

 

BOLGAR:

I swear on Luki's two tails, I heard them coming before they even reached the clearing. Two mooncalves stomping through the woods like a couple of bloody olifants, and it was only due to the heavy rain and the slave traders' sottishness that they weren't noticed. I wondered who they were. No one of our group would make such a racket, and anyway, I was pretty sure there had been no survivors. Well, save for Rikk probably. But it couldn't be him. Why would he want to free us? And even if he wanted, he was too chicken-hearted to even attempt such a thing. At least that's what I thought.

I was very surprised when our rescuer turned out to be timid Rikk indeed, and still more surprised when he even had a key for our chains! While he and the other one crawled back our group of twenty-two got rid of our chains. Then, tent for tent, we knocked our enemies out. In the end we bound them with their own chains. We'd check them out in the morning, see if there were any we wanted to keep, and then leave the rest of them chained in the woods. Then we'd give the key to the chief of a village that was far enough away, so they wouldn't come after us. They would be facing a few uncomfortable days, but they would live.

So, when all was under control, and the campfires burning bright, Ragen and I went for Rikk and his companion. At the edge of the clearing we called his name. There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and then two wet figures came stumbling toward us. For a moment Ragen and I were speechless with what we saw. Then Ragen yelled; "I don't believe this! Our fearsome slaveboy and a friggin' child!" He took the two steps toward Rikk, hugged him fiercely, and kissed both his cheeks, loudly.

"Oomph!" said Rikk when he was let down and could breathe again. Then it was my turn. I opened my arms. "Come here, boy," I said, and Rikk came willingly, even eagerly into my arms. I think it was the first time he came to me without fear or apprehension. And Gods, did it ever feel good to hold him again! I didn't want to let go of him. In the end, Ragen joined us and hugged both Rikk and me. And there we were, the three of us together again, and it felt so right. I knew we were meant to be like this.

"And what about me?" a clear voice asked, demandingly.

"Yes, Rikk, who is he?" I asked.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know," Rikk replied, "but let's get dry first, yes?"

We got dry, and warm, and learned what Rikk had to tell about Malik. When he told us how the boy, well, young man had forced him to give him a blowjob, we howled with laughter.

"Only you, Rikk, would have been blackmailed by a mere kid!" Ragen exclaimed.

"A mere kid? Ha!" countered Rikk, giving us a meaningful look. "You're in for a few surprises," he added, ominously.

It turned out he was right, as Ragen and I would begin to realize rather soon. But that, my friends, is another story, for another day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original notes for Nifty: This story deals with sex among males. If you shouldn't be reading this, don't. It's a fantasy, set in a time when sex was safe. It isn't now, so don't be a risk to yourself and others. Always play safe. The copyright for this story lies with the author.  
> Virtual chocolates & chard to my friend Tim Mead without whose help and encouragement I couldn't (and wouldn't) have done this. You can't imagine how patient he has been. He beta'ed this thing, but of course I fiddled around with it afterward, so any remaining faults are mine. This goes also for the plotholes.

RAGEN:

Malik is no child. Not only not "just a child", or "a mere kid", as I put it so casually, when I saw him for the first time. Now I rather think Rikk's first assessment of the brat was correct. He's a demon, a spawn of hell. I commanded him to go and spend the night in Tarik's tent - after all Bolgar, Rikk, and I wanted to celebrate our reunion - and the brat refused to go. He said I couldn't order him around, and he wanted to sleep with Rikk. Then he choked and pressed two tears out of his black eyes, and just like that Bolgar was bowled over. I can't believe it. Rikk and I looked at each other in amazement.

"Should we go and sleep with Tarik instead?" I murmured toward him, not really meaning it.

"No," he replied, "we'd better not leave these two alone."

I thought he was making a joke, and grinned, but he gave me a dark look in return.

The four of us cuddled together under the blankets. No sex, of course. There was Malik to consider, after all. And to be truthful, we were kind of tired. So we slept peacefully and undisturbed. Until the morning, that is, when I was awakened by an almighty roar. Bolgar's. He was sitting up, with his hair standing on end, a wild look in his eyes.

"He . . .he . . !" he sputtered, glaring at Malik, who was crouched between the giant's legs. The youth had a most satisfied smirk on his face, and worse, drops of pearly white cum on his chin, clearly visible against his dark skin. Rikk tried to suppress his laughter, but in vain. I didn't even try; I was howling with it. Bolgar threw us a baleful glare. Then he directed his glower at Malik, who was still licking his lips and looked like the cat that got the cream.

"You, boy!" Bolgar growled, pointing with one majestic finger at Malik's chest.

"Yes?" Malik asked, trying to sound innocent, but failing completely.

"Don't you ever do that again! I don't have sex with children!"

"I'm no child! I'm old enough! And I have sex with who I want! And I wanted it!"

"But I didn't want it! You can't just go and jump unwilling people!"

At that point Rikk exploded. "You talk about consent, Bolgar? You're such a hypocrite! Remember what you did to me!"

Bolgar shouted right back. "You were a slave! That's different!"

"You think so? And how are things now? If I refused you now, what would you do? Tell me, Bolgar! Would you just go and take it from me? Would you?"

Bolgar had gotten very pale during Rikk's outbreak. Now he took a deep breath and, looking into Rikk's eyes, he said, quietly, "I would never hurt you, little one. Not again. You must know that in your heart. Don't you?"

Rikk lowered his gaze. He was silent for a while, then he said, "Yes, you're right. I know that, Bolgar."

"Well, come here, cub. Let me hug you. If you want to, that is."

Rikk practically threw himself into Bolgar's arms. I, however, turned toward Malik. I wasn't very happy with his behavior. On one hand, I liked his brashness, on the other hand, he seemed like trouble to me, and I figured Rikk, Bolgar and I would have enough to do just trying to make our triad work.

I nodded at the boy. "We need to talk. Let's go outside." When he didn't move I took him none too gently by the arm and dragged him to the edge of the camp. He fought me all the way. He'd have some bruises on his arm afterward. When we reached the trees I let go of him. He threw me an evil glance and rubbed his arm. I just looked at him until he began to squirm. Didn't take long.

Then I said, "Listen, boy. I won't watch you messing with what's mine. Bolgar and Rikk are mine. If you want to stay with our group, you better keep away from my guys. We don't need a fourth, much less someone who behaves like a child. Of course you don't have to stay with us. You can go wherever you want. I won't stop you. But if you stay, you gotta listen to us. So, what's it gonna be, boy?"

Malik's eyes were blazing. I just knew he'd have loved to tell me to go to hell. But there was no way he would make it on his own, whatever he wanted to do. I knew it, and so did he. He swallowed his pride, looked up at me resignedly, slightly pouting, and said, "Okay. I'll be good. I'll try to behave."

I nodded. "Well then. I'm going to give you to one of my men. See that you get along with him. If it doesn't work out, you'll have to leave. Understood?"

"Yeah," Malik replied morosely. I smirked. I knew just the right man to deal with this willful little wildcat. At least I hoped I did. Tarik was the son of my older sister, not twenty yet, but after Bolgar the one of my men I trusted most. He was reliable, courageous, and usually had a firm hold on his temper.

I dragged Malik back to the camp. When I spotted Tarik, I waved him over to us. "Yuck! What happened to HIM?!" Malik whispered when Tarik came closer. His steps faltered and I had to practically drag him the last few feet. Well, I had to admit Tarik's face was not a beautiful sight. Not since its encounter with a Scarsian battle axe that pretty much smashed its left side. An ugly twisted scar ran from his cheekbone down to his chin pulling his mouth slightly down on that side. He had been lucky to keep his left eye, but his mouth seemed to be drawn in a perpetual sneer. Together with his coal black eyes and long dark hair it made him appear quite intimidating. I ignored Malik's struggles and addressed Tarik.

"Tarik, I've got a special task for you. This boy was a slave of the people who attacked us. He escaped them and helped Rikk to free us last night. I need you to keep an eye on him. Keep him out of trouble."

I turned to the boy.

"Malik, I'm not giving you to him as a slave, but you have to listen to this man and absolutely obey him! You can learn a lot from him, too. Understand?"

Malik nodded, reluctantly.

"Tarik, is this okay with you?"

The tall youth had listened silently, never showing any reaction at all. Now he nodded at me. "Okay, I'll take him."

"Take me? I hope you don't mean that, like, sexually, scarface!" Malik sneered at him. "There's no chance I'll ever let you touch me, ugly mug!"

Tarik looked at me, one eyebrow arched, then down at Malik as if the boy was a particularly nasty insect. Narrowing his eyes, he grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him along with himself.

"Come, boy. You've got work to do."

I saw Malik fighting his grip as they went. Five minutes later, though, the boy was sitting before a giant heap of blood-encrusted swords that badly needed to be cleaned and polished, and I allowed myself an evil giggle. Come evening Malik would be in no mood to harass innocent people. Tarik was probably safe from him anyway, and Bolgar, Rikk and I would finally be able to celebrate our reunion properly. I must say that I got a very insistent hard-on at that thought.

 

RIKK:

I barely noticed Malik and Ragen leave the tent. I was completely lost in the blissful feeling of being held in Bolgar's powerful arms. How I had missed this!

"It's good to hold you again," Bolgar growled softly into my ear.

"Glad to have your fucktoy back?" I asked.

"Very much so," he replied, after a tiny pause.

Damn. That was nice, yes, but not what I'd hoped to hear. For a moment I stiffened in his arms, then I relaxed back into his hold, resignedly. I was where I wanted to be, wasn't I? It was better not be bitchy.

"Rikk, look at me," Bolgar continued. I did. His eyes bore into mine. "Last night you freed us and saved us from being sold as slaves, or worse. We'll be forever in your debt for this. You're not a slave anymore. You don't have to stay with us, either. If you want, we will escort you home to your folks, or wherever you want to go. But I'd rather you stayed here, with Ragen and me. And not as our fucktoy, either. What do you say?"

I tried, but I couldn't say a thing. I was so choked up, and tears were streaming from my eyes. Here it was, everything I'd hoped for, and there I went, crying again.

"Yes," I said in between sobs, "yes, I want to be with you. Any way I can."

He smiled, and from the shine in his eyes I could see that he was really glad about this. His hold on me tightened and I was pressed against the hard, muscled planes of his body. It was so good to feel his power, his strength. I sighed contentedly and lay my head back on his shoulder. A long time we just stayed like that, unmoving, just being together.

 

TARIK:

Well, I'd never say no to uncle Ragen, but what the hell had he been thinking saddling me with that brat?? My fingers were still itching to give that boy the spanking he deserved! But having him clean the weapons wasn't bad, either. He'd be feeling those muscles for days. Just the right training for such a spoiled pet slave. Yeah, I knew that kind. Always crouching at their masters' feet, getting hand-fed with tasty morsels or sucking their masters' cocks under the table. Weaker than women, and even more moody. I despised their ilk. Right then I swore to myself that I'd toughen him up! But take him? In his dreams! He was a slut. Everybody knew that. Everybody'd heard Bolgar's yelling this morning. Actually I'd found it all quite funny, then. It didn't seem that funny to me now. Mentally shrugging my shoulders I strode over to the group of chained-up prisoners in the middle of the camp. I had some unfinished business with one of them.

It was midmorning, and we'd be leaving about noon. They'd lain there since the night, bound, unable to move. The flies were already swarming around them. Nobody was hurt really badly, but there was enough blood and muck to attract all kinds of vermin. Ragen had announced we all could choose one of the prisoners for ourselves, if we wanted. That was not what I intended, though.

The miserable wretches snarled and tried to kick at me as I made my way between them, looking for the one who had defeated me two days ago and taken me prisoner. He was easy to find. Even though speckled with brownish clots of congealed blood his wheat-blond hair stood out. And he recognized me, too, if the gleam in his eyes was any indication. The long, wavy hair, the bluegreen eyes together with his tanned skin were a striking combination. I'd seen people with this coloring before, far away from here on the coast of Brygia. Two days ago, his looks had made me hesitate just long enough to give him the advantage he needed over me. I resented him for that. He'd knocked me out with a club - yes, with a bloody friggin' club, for Luki's sake! - and I had awoken, my hands and feet bound securely, to a stream of hot piss directed at my face. His piss. For that, I resented him, too. Now, he scowled up at me as I approached. I just smiled.

Slowly, deliberately, I took my cock out, aimed, and let loose. Hot steaming yellow piss poured down on him, hit his wide-open eyes, and when he screamed with rage, it flooded his mouth. Soaking him from head to toe I watched him sputter and cough. My bladder had been so full, it fuckin' hurt, but by Bilari's guts, this was worth it! Finally my piss petered out; I shook the last drops off, and tucked myself back in. I was already turning around to walk away from him, when he hissed at me, "Pissing's surely the only thing you ever get to do with that pathetic thing!" And I froze, swallowed, and slowly turned back.

I didn't stop to think about what I did then. I just took out my knife, stooped down to him, and holding his head immobile by that flaxen hair of his, I carved a big "T", for Tarik, right in the middle of his forehead. I didn't cut very deeply, but nonetheless blood began to well up.

"What have you done to me?" he grated, blue eyes blazing.

"Just gave you a little something to remember me by," I said.

"Bastard!" he hissed. And then, in a deadly, low voice, "I swear, I'll get you for that! You'd better kill me now!"

I smirked. "I'm not worried 'bout you. I'm letting you go now, but I won't be so lenient next time. If you're smart you'll stay away from me."

I got up, and walked away toward my tent. On my way I passed Malik, who was still polishing weapons. Not surprisingly, he threw me a dirty glare. I stopped to check his work. Not bad at all.

"You're doing well," I said.

"Fuck you, scarhead," was his reply.

"In your dreams, boy."

Another one of those death-glares. I guess I was pretty safe from his advances. Behind me, I could hear Ragen snicker at our exchange. He and Bolgar were supervising the loading of the horses. We had lots to pack though we hadn't taken everything from the slavers, only the best stuff. Furs, all the coins and jewelry they'd had with them, and the best thing of all, a load of spices: nutmeg, vanilla, ginger, assafran, cinnamon, and a yellow powder we couldn't identify, but whose smell made my mouth water. We'd be able to sell the spices further north for at least the double of their worth here. I bet those slavers were already cursing the day they'd attacked us.

"Ragen," I asked, "will we leave before noon?"

"Yeah, I want to be off as soon as possible. It's still at least four days till Aquilegia, if the weather's holding. We can get rid of all of the furs there and buy cotton cloth, wine and oil."

"Uh, Ragen, I know you said we'd send someone from the next village to free the prisoners. I'm not so sure if that's a good idea."

"Yeah, I've thought about that, too. Why should they set people free who very probably attacked them before and will do so again? We need to take one of those bastards with us instead and send him back to free his folks tomorrow morning. That should give us enough of an advantage. After two days lying in the cold without food they won't be much of a menace anyway."

And so was it done. One hour later we set out south. I was eager to go there. This was only my second journey, the other one had been a winter trip to Seria, and now I wanted to see a sea that was warmer than the Northern Sea, a land where they grew wine and olives and spoke a language that sounded exciting and melodious and so different from ours.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on the Nifty Archive. Beta'd by my friend Tim Mead (the one who wrote Dr. Tim and the Boys). All remaining errors are mine. Thanks for the kudos, the first I ever got. You know what, I really like this chapter. Even though there's no noncon here. Still looking for a beta for the later chapters.

BOLGAR:

Damn, but it felt good to be on the road again! Rikk was riding between Ragen and me, and a few rows behind us I could hear that boy Malik bitch at Tarik. I didn't envy Ragen's nephew his task of keeping the lad under control. As I made a respective comment to my men, Rikk frowned and remarked, "Malik's not a bad one, you know. Remember, he had to serve his owner as a sex-slave. That must have left traces. And I suspect he's used to being spoiled rotten. We gotta cut him some slack. I hope Tarik won't be too hard on him."

"Well, let's just hope he keeps him away from us tonight," I muttered. "That's all I want!"

Ragen and Rikk snickered as we rode on. We were heading straight south, and with every mile of progress we made out of the mountains it seemed to become warmer. Our destination for today was the Lago Rubio, and we reached its shores just before it became too dark to travel further.

Great fires were lit and we made camp. It was so mild and the sky was so clear we didn't bother with the tents. Instead, we just laid out our blankets. Ragen, Rikk and I carried our stuff more to the edge of the camp, a fact the men commented on with lewd remarks.

We baked our simple bread on flat stones in the fire and grilled freshly caught fish. It was companionable and easy, just like I remembered the south. Still, I couldn't wait for the evening to pass, for the fires to die down. By Luki's two tails, I wanted my men!

When finally the circle around the fire had become smaller, more and more of our band had retired to sleep, or not to sleep. Ragen had named the guards for the night; he, Rikk and I went to where our things lay. I got naked in no time, and Ragen and Rikk smirked when they saw just how hard and ready I already was.

"My, my, Bolgar! So eager, and you came already today!" Ragen taunted, undressing himself.

"That doesn't count!" I growled. "That was the kid from hell, and I was asleep when it happened anyway! I want you guys, and now!"

"How about a swim first? The water was nice when I scrubbed our bowls, and we're all pretty grimy," Rikk proposed. He was naked now, too, and Gods, his slender, boyish body looked so good to me!

"What did he just say?" Ragen cast me a flabbergasted glance. "He wants to swim?"

"Yeah, that's what I heard, too." We both frowned at him.

"What's the matter? Why do you two look at me like that?"

"We don't swim," Ragen declared. "We're from a nation of seafaring men. We use boats."

"You don't swim? Like, in, you can't swim? What do you do when your boat sinks?"

"Go to Valhalla fast and bravely," I replied, "not flee our death by splashing around cowardly."

"Besides," added Ragen, "our boats do not sink!" Shoulder by shoulder, we stood there, letting Rikk see our disapproval. Swimming, really! I shook my head. No self-respecting Norseman swam. Ever.

"Well, I can swim, and now I'll go and do so!" Rikk said, pouting a bit, and naked as he was he strutted over the short distance to the water's edge, and jumped into the lake. He came up, swam and splashed, mocking us, while we ignored him. Until suddenly, with a strangled gasp, he went under. I thought my heart was going to stop then and there.

"Shit! We have to get him out!" I shouted.

"Yeah," Ragen agreed, breaking into a run, "come on, Bolgar, hurry!"

We jumped into the water. I went under like a stone. Flailing around wildly, I came up again, coughing my lungs out. At my side Ragen sounded like he was doing the same. Then I saw Rikk's head, maybe ten feet away from us.

"He's over there," I sputtered, trying to point the direction, which promptly made me sink under again. When I came up next time, Ragen had inched closer to where Rikk had been. Only Rikk wasn't there anymore. 'Oh Skadi of the Scythe,' I prayed, 'spare him!'

"Help!" it gurgled faintly from behind me. Splashing, Ragen and I managed to turn around. But there was nothing, was there? It was hard to tell in the dark.

"I can't see him anymore," I shouted, getting desperate.

"Me neither!" Ragen shouted back.

"Over here, guys!" Rikk's voice.

"Rikk, dammit, where are you?" And then I saw him, his pale, lean body glistening wetly in the light of the dying fires. Standing near the shore, waving with both arms, and decidedly not looking like a man who had nearly escaped drowning. I couldn't say for sure, but it seemed like the asshole was even grinning at us.

In my surprise I forgot that I still had no firm ground under my feet, and spluttering I went under once more. Ragen pulled me up this time; he seemed to have gotten the hang of this swimming thing faster than me.

"He's been having us on," he stated, his voice dangerously low, while he dragged the two of us toward the shore.

"He's going to pay for that!" I snarled, feeling beyond mad now.

Rikk must have seen something in our faces. He bit his lip. "Hey, at least you two can swim now!" he yelled, before turning round and dashing away from us. Ragen and I exchanged a grim glance.

"Wear him out?" Ragen proposed.

"Nah," I said. "He'll only break his stupid neck in the dark. Besides, we want him lively for later, don't we?"

We chased him a bit, then we brought him down. We threw him onto his back, I held his arms, Ragen kneeled on his thighs.

"Tell me, Rikk," I inquired sweetly, "do you happen to be ticklish?"

"Uh, no?" he tried, but the look in his eyes gave him away. I grinned at him. Taking both his wrists in my left hand, I reached with my right for his ribs.

"Shit!" he screamed, jerking away from my touch. "Bolgar, I'm sorry! Ragen, help me, dammit!" We just laughed at that, heartily.

He fought like a wildcat, but he had no chance against us. We only stopped when he seemed close to suffocating. Leaning back to survey our work, we saw that Rikk was bathed in sweat, breathless, wheezing from laughing and crying at the same time. He didn't even try to stand up. He lay there, spread out for us like a feast, not cheeky or cocky anymore, rather, well, pliant. It reminded me of the second night we three spent together, when Rikk had lain there so submissively and had let me rim him, and later had asked me to fuck him.

"Already he looks well-fucked, and we haven't even started yet," commented Ragen.

"We should remedy that," I agreed.

Rikk moaned and spread his legs. Ye Gods, when he's like that I find him absolutely irresistible.

"Who's first?" I croaked.

"Wait, let me get the oil, we're gonna need it," Ragen murmured, jumping up.

"Bring a blanket, too", I yelled after him. Then I knelt down at Rikk's side. I looked into his big, shining eyes.

"You," I said, pointing with a finger on his chest, "have been a very bad boy!"

"Yes, Bolgar," he whispered, spreading his legs a bit more. His cock was hardening under my gaze. Lovely.

"You need to be taught a lesson, don't you think?" I asked, settling between his thighs.

"Yes, master. Please teach me!" he moaned, pushing his hard-on up at me.

I couldn't resist. I sucked it all in, deep into my throat, and kept him there, swallowing around him, as he screamed and bucked under me. In no time he yelled that he was coming. Suddenly a hand appeared between us, tugging Rikk's balls down none too gently, and Ragen's voice growled, "Not so fast, boys!"

"Fuck!" yelled Rikk in frustration. "Exactly," said Ragen, who had dropped the blanket and was now towering over us, arms folded in front of his chest. "Not only did you start without me - you, Rikk, nearly finished without me!" he groused. I snickered. Ragen was magnificent, all naked, still wet and glistening, all muscles and smooth planes, his cock an angry, urgent red pole waving before my nose. I reached for it.

"Uh uh," he said, taking a step back.

"Ooh, come on, I gotta have it!" I pleaded, knowing that he'd like that.

"And you're gonna get it," he growled. "Right up your ass, Bolgar, my brother. Here -" he threw me the oil -"get yourself ready for me. Hurry up!"

Rikk's eyes got big as he saw me coating two fingers with the oil and jabbing them up my ass, eager for Ragen's cock. When I could take three without too much discomfort, I put my head down on Rikk's stomach, pushed my ass out at Ragen and said, "I'm ready."

Ragen entered me mercilessly. He knew very well what I could take. It hurt some, but the stretch was delicious and even with the first push he hit the good place inside me dead-on. Caught between pain and pleasure, I jerked my head up and howled like a hungry icewolf. Above me, Ragen laughed in satisfaction and pride. No one else could take me to that place, and he knew it.

He stayed motionless inside me. I was so tight around him, I could feel the blood pulsing through his weapon. I thought I could come, just from this. It was maddening.

"Move, dammit," I ground out.

Slowly he pulled out, just to slam back into me, fast. "Yes!" I screamed. Under me, Rikk was panting just from watching us. His eyes were dark with need and I wanted to take him, fill him up, but I knew I couldn't, not when Ragen was fucking me like this.

But Ragen had watched Rikk, too. "Better get yourself ready," he told him, "because you're next!" Rikk's breath hitched in his throat and he hurriedly grabbed the flask with oil and set to work. Our gazes locked as Ragen grabbed my hips firmly and started fucking me into oblivion. It was hard and fast, and I yelled with every thrust. He kept on hitting my love nut and then I was coming and he just fucked me through it, fucked the come out of me, and it splattered all over Rikk.

When Ragen pulled out, I collapsed next to Rikk, suddenly feeling completely limp. Rikk lifted and spread his legs till his knees were practically at his ears. His hole glistened wetly and he was the picture of submission. Still, I could see him worrying his lower lip and wondered if he might be a bit afraid.

Ragen bent down and kissed him, tenderly, for a long time, until Rikk began to respond. Then he put the tip of his cock at his entrance and asked him, "How do you want me, sweet thing?", and Rikk blinked and replied, "Go slow, please. Slow and deep." I could only watch in awe as Ragen complied and sank into him slowly, agonizingly so, and Rikk's eyes closed in pleasure and he sighed, "Oh, yes, just like this!" Ragen continued to take him slowly, on and on, and I could see how he ground his teeth together from trying not to come before Rikk was there, too. I couldn't take it any longer. Leaning over Rikk's prone body, I took hold of his weeping dick and began to swirl my tongue around the juicy head.

"Yes, Gods, yes!" moaned Rikk. "Just like that, Bolgar! Fuck! Fuck me faster, Ragen! More! More, dammit!"

"You want more?" Ragen gasped. "You're gonna get it!" And he sped up until he was really slamming into him and Rikk was yelling and Ragen was huffing, and then Rikk's cock pulsed and he started to shoot, huge amounts of hot tasty come, and I caught it all in my mouth. One breath later Ragen spent himself inside Rikk, his arms trembling from the exertion, shouting out his completion in a hoarse voice. I waited till he'd got a bit of his breath back. Then I leaned over to him, and kissed him deeply, our tongues playing with Rikk's come, swapping it back and forth between us. At last he pulled out and broke down between Rikk and me. I'll never forget how heavy the air was with our combined smells on him. I remember thinking at that moment that I was his, just like Rikk was. And that he was ours. We pulled the forgotten blanket over us and fell asleep right there, under the stars.


	9. Chapter 9

TARIK:

I guess I'm not the first one saying this, but Malik drives me mad. When I caught him trying to sneak off, probably to Bolgar, for the second time the first night, I was so fed up with him that I chained his feet together. After that, he stayed put. But not silent. Instead I was treated to a solo performance which demonstrated that he was a master at beating his meat. Though this expression doesn't really do justice to his expertise. He played his body like I once, in the castle of a Danish prince, saw a fiddler play his gamba. At first, I just noticed his hands under the blanket, moving all over his body, touching and caressing it everywhere. On certain places they lingered, like on his nips, which they seemed to be running around in circles, and later it looked like he was pinching them more and more roughly. That's when I heard the first moan.

I had been trying to avert my gaze from him. It's not like I could really see much, anyway. His body was not much more a dark silhouette against the muted light of the campfire which shone through the tent wall. I couldn't see his face, either. Just a gleam where his eyes had to be. Hearing his moan, though, I knew I wouldn't look away. Instead, I grabbed my own very interested cock and squeezed it, gritting my teeth against the realization that I was getting off on the machinations of that brat. I told myself that it had to be the wine which made me act this way. The wine and the sounds the wind had carried over from where Ragen, Bolgar and Rikk were now sleeping.

His hands pushed the blanket away. He pulled his legs up and his trousers down, so they came to rest on his ankle-chains. Wriggling his hips a little - I could see (and hear) his stiff cock smack-hit his tummy - he proceeded to suck on the fingers of his right hand, getting them good and wet from the sound of it. Then he set that hand to work between his legs. Not on his cock, like I would have thought, but rather somewhere behind his balls. He had to be touching his hole. That thought sent a jolt through my body that had me almost breathless.

I reminded myself that he was more than annoying, and that he was a slut. I had never touched myself there. He seemed to enjoy it a lot. When he pushed his fingers in, he let out such a heartfelt, satisfied sigh, that my own cock twitched and my ball sack drew up tight. Intrigued somehow and strangely breathless, I got one of my fingers wet and, biting my lower lip, tentatively pushed it against my own hole. The tip entered easily, and then my muscle there clenched around my finger and that felt good, too, and I pushed it farther in.

So far, so good. It was not really unappealing, but I couldn't see what exactly warranted the boy's shameless behavior. By now, he was jabbing his fingers into himself and even canting his hips up to meet his own thrusts, while his other hand was squeezing around his hard and straining cock. Also, he was panting rather loudly, with his head thrown back in obvious rapture. It was clear he'd be getting there soon.

Which meant I had to hurry, if I wanted a chance at coming without him noticing what I was doing. And, by Luki's two tails, I needed to come rather urgently! Inserting a second finger into my ass, and just keeping them there buried deeply, I started frigging my cock, fast and relentlessly, and so rough it even hurt some. But it worked, and I came at the same time the boy did, his cry of joy swallowing my own hoarse moan of pained completion. Gritting my teeth again, I extricated my fingers from my still clenching hole and wiped them on my blanket.

I was dabbing my belly dry with said blanket, as inconspicuously as I could, when he dealt me the final blow. He scooped his spunk up with his fingers and gobbled it down like it was the Gods' own mead, brewed by Luki himself. Barely suppressing a growl, I turned my traitorous body around so that I lay facing away from him.

I slept rather well the rest of the night, but not the next one, or the one after that, when I refused to be dragged along by his sluttish behavior, and ended up with a hard-on that wouldn't go down for what seemed like hours to me. Consequently, my mood was rather dark on our journey to Aquilegia, and I let the boy feel it by making him walk on foot most of the way. Though, when on the morning of the fourth day I relented and offered him to ride with me, he scowled at me, saying he preferred to walk.

It wasn't that he didn't behave. He obeyed my orders without question after that first rebellion, when I just put him over my knee and gave him six swats on his naked ass. There had been tears and hatred in his eyes afterward, but he'd learned his lesson. Now he was sullen and compliant. Still, his mere presence grated on my nerves. Sometimes I caught him looking at me, and when that happened, his eyes would wander to the left side of my face, assessing the damage there, and then he'd give me a look of utter revulsion that'd make my skin crawl. Every night I had to watch him beat off, had to listen to him moan almost like a woman in labor, carrying on as if I wasn't even there, and having to lie there like that, denying myself, made me resent him even more.

In the early afternoon of the fourth day, we reached the outskirts of Aquilegia and set up camp. Ragen and Bolgar rode into the city to talk with the merchants, the rest of us put up tents or sorted the merchandise or cooked. When Ragen and Bolgar returned, we sat all round the fire and ate. Malik got the task of cleaning the many dishes afterward and he busied himself at the shores of the small Natissa river, while Bolgar, Ragen, Rikk and I sat down for a pitcher of wine and a game of Tavla.

I'd just decided it was my day (I had beat the other three soundly), when Bolgar remarked, "The boy takes quite a while for the dishes."

"Shit," I exclaimed, jumping up. "He should have been done by now!" I had a bad feeling about this. I should have watched him more closely. His compliant behavior lately had made me lax, I guess. Well, technically he was no slave anymore, and free to go wherever he wanted.

Rikk was obviously worried about the brat, so we searched for him up and down the river, but the boy wasn’t to be found. There were no signs of a struggle, either. Malik had run away. 'From me,' I thought, remembering the looks of disgust and hatred he always cast at me. 'Well, good riddance to the brat,' I thought to myself, but when I lay alone in my tent that night, I couldn't help worrying a bit about him. These were dangerous times to be out there without someone to watch over you, and even though I disliked the brat, I didn't want anything ugly to happen to him. I even felt bad for having driven him away. I should have treated him better, I thought, 'cause when it came down to it, he was just a kid after all. Just a kid . . . Looking back, I'm sure the fates were laughing when I thought that.

The next morning we drew straws to decide who would have to stay behind as guards while the other men went into the city. It hit Enki and, of course, me. Bolgar offered to stay behind in my place, because he'd been in the city before, and I hadn't, but I declined. Being Ragen's nephew, I didn't want any special treatment. Besides, Enki was fun to be with. I never understood how someone could be so cheerful and easy-going all the time, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. And he was a born storyteller, though his yarn was so outrageous sometimes I was pretty sure he made most of it up.

It was getting dark. Enki and I had lit a small fire, mostly to keep the mosquitoes at bay, when suddenly I heard a soft thud and the next second Enki fell over, an arrow buried in his back. Instantly I jumped up, grabbed him and dragged him behind a tent. I cast a fast look around it, but couldn't see anyone. So I checked Enki's wound first. The arrow hadn't gone in very deep, and there was no red foam around Enki's mouth and nose, which was a good sign. "Leave it, Tarik," he said consequently, confirming my thoughts. "It's nothing serious. Better catch the bastard who did it."

Using the tents as cover, I made my way to the growth of olive trees where the arrow had to have come from, my sword drawn. Suddenly there was a voice to my left, calling my name. I turned around, and there was Malik, coming forth from behind a tree. Surprised for a moment, and relieved he was looking well, I noticed the man who now came at me from the other side almost too late. Almost. A cracking twig alerted me just in time, and I whirled around to face the bastard with the fair hair coming at me. It was pure reflex which let me get my sword up in the last possible second to block his blow. There was so much power behind it that my whole right arm became numb for a second. Then it started to smart as if hundreds of ants had bitten me. The next blows I just parried blindly, but slowly my attacker lost the advantage he'd had over me and I gained ground.

Time and again our swords clashed against each other. At one time I had the right angle and sent his weapon flying. I threw my sword away too and jumped the swine and we both went crashing down. His head hit the ground hard, and he was stunned for a moment. Taking the opportunity, I grabbed him by his feet and dragged him towards the Natissa. He was heavy and fought me tooth and nail, but at last I dropped him into the water. Once he was in there, I had the better leverage and I held him down easily, pressing his head under water till his body became limp. I waited a while longer for good measure, then I let go. His head came up immediately. He was spluttering and coughing and gasping for air. He started to struggle again, so I pushed him under once more. We repeated that a few times, and he drank quite a lot of river water in the end. His resistance faded, too, and he seemed weak like a newborn kitten, but when I asked him if he'd had enough, he spit right into my face.

Scowling at him, I pulled him out so that he was lying on his back beneath the stream. He was breathing heavily, wheezing. After our fight his clothes, which had been ratty before, were merely rags, and I tore them from his body and flung them into the river.

I bound his arms securely behind his back, then I got up and kicked him in the ribs deliberately. He snarled at me angrily, but all I really saw were the hard, powerful planes of his chest, which were even more prominent with his hands bound behind his back. Calling myself three times a fool, I still couldn't help noticing how well this man was put together, muscled, but at the same time lean and sleek. Long arms and legs, with sparse blond hair that stood out against his darkly tanned skin. Drops of water were glistening on his broad chest. There was just one strip of white on his body, probably from a loincloth he had worn in the summer. His ball sack and dick, shriveled-up from the cold water, were beginning to expand even as I looked. Now, that I was closer, I could see quite a few lines in his face, especially around his mouth and his eyes. He had to be older than I first had thought. Way older than me, in any case.

Meeting his gaze, I saw that arrogant sneer on his face again, which I remembered all too well from our last meeting. His eyes were telling me without words what he felt at the moment. There was revulsion, of course - well, wasn't I used to that one - and anger and hostility, but the most prominent feeling was that of burning hatred. I didn't need to see the red 'T' on his forehead to remind me where that came from. Maybe I shouldn't have humiliated him like that. But it was done, and now I had to deal with it. With him. My own face was as expressionless as I could make it (which meant it was frozen in a scowling grimace) when I put my foot on his male parts and slowly pressed down until he gasped.

"I warned you to stay away from me," I told him. "You should have listened. Now you are mine."

"Never!" he growled, looking up at me defiantly.

"You're mine!" I said, pressing down harder. "Say it, slave! Say it!" His face turned red, then pale, and he couldn't suppress a scream as I increased the pressure. But he still wouldn't say the words. I stepped back, knelt beside him, grabbed his swelling balls with one hand and pulled them down. With the other hand I pressed my knife into the stretched skin of his ball sack. "Tell me what I want to hear," I said, quietly, menacingly. "Tell me, or say good-bye to your balls."

There was pure, white hatred in his blue-green eyes. He swallowed, then, closing his eyes in defeat, he ground out, "I'm yours." All tension had left his body.

Gods, it was sweet to hear him say that! It made me shiver inside. It made me get hard instantly. I inhaled deeply. In the air was a tart, citrusy scent which had to be his. Lovely.

"We'll have lots of fun together, you and I," I promised him, letting go of his balls and taking his cock instead. Surprisingly, it had begun to fill out. Now, as I handled it, it got even harder. Smiling grimly, I drew the sharp tip of my knife down its length, almost without any pressure. At one point he jerked the tiniest bit, and I drew blood. It was then that I felt his cock twitch in my hand. I looked at his face and saw that his pupils had gotten so big there was only a small circle of blue green visible around them. A light sheen of sweat was on his face, and he was breathing fast.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was getting off on this. But that couldn't be, now could it? Still, why not taunt him a bit?

"You're enjoying this," I told him, grabbing his cock and squeezing it.

"No!" he cried, shaking his head frantically.

"Look how hard you are!" I taunted. "You're wet like a woman! Your cock is weeping for me!" And it was. He looked away, his breath catching.

Now I was certain I'd read the signs correctly. It was a very heady feeling to have him at my mercy like this. He might hate me, but some part of him enjoyed what I was doing to him. Letting go of his cock, I wrenched his legs up, pressing them against his upper body. His ass cheeks parted and I could see his hole. It seemed very small to me, not that I'd seen many, and it was completely hairless and a bit wrinkly. I tickled him there with my knife and he hissed, but otherwise he stayed still. Then I pressed the blade in a little harder, letting him feel its sharpness.

"I could kill you like this," I said, "letting you bleed to death from your asshole."

"Gods, no! Please, don't!" he gasped, his sea green eyes wide open. My cock twitched with the pleasure of seeing him like that. I held my knife where it was. Our gazes were locked.

"Please!" he begged, "Please, don't!” I smiled. By the gods, he was the hottest, the sweetest, the most arousing thing I'd ever seen in my life. And he was mine! My mind whirled with the things I wanted to do to him, with ways in which I could torment him. I saw images of him underneath me, hard and suffering and needy, straining for my touch.

I just thought about jacking off over him when I suddenly heard steps behind me. Right, the brat. I'd nearly forgotten about him. "Malik, get me the chains from the tent," I said, without looking away from my captive.

"Sure, master," he said, and then something hit my head hard and everything turned black.


	10. Chapter 10

RAGEN:

It was a beautiful autumn morning. The grass was sprinkled with dew from the night, and now the sun made the mist rise up from it. Everything was luscious and green, and covered with sparkling spider webs. Threads of spider silk were drifting in the air. I rode between Bolgar and Rikk, who were both complaining about their backsides being tender from last night, which in turn made me feel quite accomplished and not a little bit smug. Aquilegia was a mile east of us and we'd soon cross the old Via Iulia Augusta on our way to the harbor. In fact, we were just passing the Roman gravesite, so I knew it wouldn't be far.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Rikk exclaimed suddenly. Bolgar and I shrugged, we hadn't heard anything, but we reined our horses in and listened. There it was, a kind of whine, like from a small animal perhaps.

"I'm going to take a look," Rikk decided and jumped off his horse. I was just thinking how good it was that he was acting more confident lately, when he stumbled, cried out and disappeared from the face of the earth.

"Shit!" I muttered, and, like Bolgar, jumped down and ran to see what had happened. I managed to halt my steps just in time. In front of my feet was a cleft in the ground through which Rikk must have fallen.

"Rikk!" I yelled. "Are you okay?" Bolgar and I dropped to our knees, leaning forward to inspecting the cavity. "Yes, I'm all right, just a bit . . ." He broke off, then he suddenly screamed hysterically, only to switch a moment later to laughing just as madly.

Bolgar rolled his eyes, and I felt like banging my head on a rocky surface for relief. "Rikk?" I inquired mildly.

"Yeah, I'm here." Well, obviously. "Throw me a rope, will you?" Bolgar did. Together we hauled our errant loverboy up. He appeared from the cleft, holding on to the rope with one arm, while cradling a puppy, of all things, in the other. A puppy with a yellowish human shinbone in its mouth. I guess that explained Rikk's strange behavior.

Rikk looked up at me pleadingly. "Well, keep it," I said. The smile that broke out on his face eclipsed the sun by far. "What should I call him?" Rikk wondered. I looked the thing over. It was rather unspectacular. Save for the bone, that is. Brown eyes, grey-brown, unkempt and scruffy fur, way too bony, it reminded me a bit of how Rikk had looked when we found him.

"Foundling," I suggested. "Nah, that's not grand enough," declined Rikk. Grand?? "Fleabag," Bolgar proposed. Rikk huffed. We climbed back on our horses and rode on, while Rikk continued to muse about names for the dog, trying out the sound of them. I managed to hold on to my composure hearing the hapless thing being called "Tiger", or "Lion", or "Wolf". I even kept my trap shut at "Champion". "Warlord" though made me crack up for good. Bolgar was giggling, too. "That's a hell of a lot to live up to for such a little dog," he commented. "Why not call him just 'Fluffy'?" Rikk's gaze turned pensive. "Fluffy?" he called out tentatively, and the puppy yipped, so Fluffy it was.

In Aquilegia, we delivered our trading goods to the different warehouses. We had agreed to reinvest three quarters of the money we made, and to distribute the rest of the money among our group. I did that, keeping Tarik's and Enki's in to give it to them later. Then, as it had become tradition, we headed for some entertainment at Diandra's Dollhouse. Tarik and Enki knew we wouldn't be back before noon.

 

TARIK:

When I awoke it was dark. I had a bitch of a headache, and something about my sight was a bit off. Everything seemed blurry somehow. Still, I could see there was a fire burning, maybe ten steps away from me, and that there were two people sitting close to it, eating what smelled like some sort of fish. At that point my stomach rolled and I became violently sick.

At the same time, though, I noticed that I was bound so tightly, I couldn't move at all. My hands were fastened behind my back, in such a way that my shoulders were aching with the strain; and my feet were also bound together. So when I was done retching, the mess was right before my nose, and I started being sick all over again, until I felt like I was about to bring out my stomach itself. My throat burned, and the taste in my mouth was beyond nasty.

A strong hand grabbed me by my bound feet and dragged me closer to the fire. It was HIM, of course. He had Malik throw earth over the stinking mess I'd made. Then he held a beaker to my mouth, offering me water. I couldn't even lift my head, so he put his hand under my neck and lifted me halfway up. I took only small sips, afraid too much of it would make me sick again.

"Thank you," I croaked when he put my head back down.

"Don't thank me," he said ominously, "you'll get yours. I just want you to be able to really appreciate it." That was when everything came back to me. The fight, and what had happened afterward.

'Oh Skadi of the Scythe!' I prayed, 'Merciful Goddess, come for me now!' I could very well imagine the kind of revenge he'd wreak on me. Oh Luki, I'd had him, totally at my mercy! Like a dream come true! A dream I hadn't even known I'd had! And now I was the one caught in a nightmare.

The fire burned down. My former captive put out furs and blankets and he and the boy wrapped themselves up in them. I got nothing, of course. It wasn't really cold, but the ground was hard. Also, my head still hurt, and I was beginning to feel hungry, not having eaten anything since breakfast.

On the other side of the dying embers, I could see Malik inching closer to the blond bastard. 'Here we go,' I thought. And I was right.

"Sigur," whispered the brat, "it's so cold! Can I come under your blankets?"

"Sure," the bastard replied, and immediately the little fiend cuddled up to him. For a while there was quiet, aside from the occasional rustle of cloth.

Then: "Stop that wriggling, boy! Have you got ants in your pants?!"

"No," Malik giggled. "It's just - you're so warm! And you smell nice! And your muscles are so HARD!"

Hard, my ass! There was more rustling. A slide of skin on skin, followed by a twitch and a gasp.

"Damn, stop it! What are you doing? That's no muscle!"

"Isn’t it? But it's hard, too!" Pause. I was gritting my teeth in anticipation.

Then, in a fake-surprised voice: "Oh, by Thor! It's your . . . "

'Don't say it,' I prayed silently.

" . . . hammer!" Malik concluded triumphantly. Gah. I fought the urge to vomit again.

"Malik, leave me be!" Sigur the bastard sounded a bit desperate already.

"I want to touch it! It's so big! Let me get it out! Wow! It's almost as big as Bolgar's! It really feels just like his! I sucked it once, you know."

"What? Those bastards made you suck their cocks?" Sigur sounded scandalized, the sanctimonious prick. If he only knew!

"Yes, they did!" Malik lied shamelessly. "All the time! And now it's like, when I see a cock as nice as yours, I just gotta have it! Oh please, can I suck it? You can do mine, too!" Without waiting for a reply he set to work.

And he was loud, licking and smacking like he was sucking marrow out of a bone. Which in a way he was, of course. I couldn't be sure, but from the sounds of it, Sigur had moved over and was sucking the boy, too.

There were grunts and moaning, and sounds of slurping, and in no time at all there was the rustle of Sigur bucking up, crying out hoarsely, and the next thing I heard was Malik gobbling his cream down, smacking loudly like it was the gods’ own nectar.

When Sigur had his breath back, he went down on the brat once more, taking him all down in one go. Sure, Malik wasn’t exactly big, but it still spoke of lots of practice.

Shortly afterwards Malik jerked and cried out, too. “Yes, Sigur, yes! Take it! Ah! God, you’re good!” He writhed and twitched, moaning like a total slut as Sigur sucked him dry. When it was over, he sank back down on the blankets, sighing in contentment. And there was, finally, blessed silence.

Well, and I lay there hard and aching from watching them, with no relief in sight. It was becoming a tradition, it seemed.

The bastard and the brat settled back in their blankets to sleep. I heard a whispered, "Damn, I needed that!" from Malik, and then my captor's voice, grumbling, "Hell, my balls still hurt!" Despite my own aches, I couldn't quite suppress a gleeful snicker when I heard that.

Seconds later, I wished I'd stayed silent. Sigur was hovering over me, the expression on his face promising nothing good. He took my tightly drawn-up balls in his hands and yanked them down viciously, while I screamed and scrambled to get away. Only there was nowhere to go for me, bound as I was.

The bastard smiled evilly and proceeded to bind my throbbing balls cruelly with a piece of twine. By the time he tied the last knot I was already clenching my teeth and hissing from the pain. I wanted nothing more than to plead with him to remove the twine, but my pride stopped me from saying anything.

Well, he went back to sleep, while I tried to hold on. It hurt very badly and for a long time. I tried to lie still to keep the pain at bay, but it was absolutely useless. My whole body kept sizing up as waves of agony crashed through it, on and on.

The worst, though, was when that pain at some point started to lessen, to become almost bearable, and the fear of being damaged permanently arose. In the end I was so panicked, I forgot about my damned pride and called out. Sigur had to have been still awake, probably enjoying my suffering, because he was at my side instantly. Scowling he crouched over me, looking at me darkly.

"What do you want, scarhead?"

"Please," I said, my voice breaking, "please untie my balls. I - " here I nearly choked on the words, "I can barely feel them anymore."

He laughed right out. "Why should I care about your jewels?"

"Please," I said. "Please, I'll do anything. Anything at all."

He nodded. "You're mine now," he stated.

"Yes," I said, "I'm yours."

"You'll call me master."

I closed my eyes. This was it. My total destruction. My life was over.

"Yes, master,” I replied, feeling dead inside.

"You're my slave. Say it!"

"I'm your slave!"

He backhanded me.

"I'm your slave, master!" I cried out in desperation.

"Swear it. Swear it on your mother's life!"

"By the life of my mother, I'm your slave! Master!" I was weeping now.

He drew his knife. But instead of freeing my balls, he moved the knife up toward my face. Holding my hair out of the way with one hand, he used the other to carve something on my forehead. Probably he was trying for an 'S', for either ‘Sigur’, or ‘slave’. As if I wasn't already ugly enough, I thought, and blinked as blood ran into my eyes. He smirked. Only then did he cut the twine.

At first there was only relief when the bindings finally came off, followed by excruciating pain as the feeling returned to my tortured genitals. At some point the pain abated, and shame over my weakness began to fill me. I didn’t fall asleep for a very long time, but when I did, I dreamed of my mother, and she was weeping, too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another old chapter, beta'd by Tim Mead. All remaining errors as well as plotholes are mine. Enjoy.

TARIK:

After a night of fitful sleep and fateful dreams, I awoke to the by now familiar feeling of my back muscles cramping. My arms, on which I must have lain toward morning, were totally numb. It was still dark, about an hour before dawn; the birds were just waking up.

A thought settled like lead in my chest. My life was no longer my own. I was a slave. I was property of that bastard Sigur, who hated me. Not that I cared much about that. No matter who owned me, the thing was, I was no longer free. I had sworn it on the life of my mother. She'd kill me if she ever heard about that.

And there was no way out of it. Well, maybe one. I could always die. Because while I'd sworn to belong to him, I had not sworn to obey him. I could just stop taking in food, and that'd be it. A few days of hunger and thirst, and I'd be free. And dead.

It seemed to me that that wasn't much different from running away, a coward's way out. My heart told me that the oath I had sworn didn't allow me to take that road. The blond bastard may have taken my freedom, my honor though was still my own, and I was going to keep it.

But oh gods, how could I have been so stupid? That thought hurt a lot, that I had brought this all on myself through my own sheer stupidity. I had gotten so carried away having the bastard at my mercy that I had forgotten about everything else - about the wounded Enki, about that boy Malik--

Malik. If it weren't for the brat, I wouldn't be lying here like that, bound, helpless, facing a fate that-- No, I was not going to go there! But Enki - I prayed to Morian of the Portals that he may be all right. Then I just lay there, trying to work out the kinks in my arms and back as well as I could, bound as I was, all the time dreading what was to come.

Sigur and Malik woke up when dawn set in. My heart racing with anticipation, I watched them both stretch languorously and thoroughly, heard their joints popping as they did it. They scrambled to their feet and trotted to the side, where they, a smaller and a taller silhouette against the rising sun, simultaneously let loose twin streams of morning piss.

It hurt to watch them. They could have been father and son, I thought. Or rather companions, I amended, remembering the incidents of the night. Malik used sex like other people use their weapons. Not with me, though. He detested me too much. And Sigur hated me. Yes, I know I've said that before.

Damn, I had to piss, too. Only, I couldn't, trussed up like this. Not without wetting my clothes, anyway.

They returned, settled down by the relit fire, and broke fast. Watching them, I fought hard to ignore my empty, growling stomach and still harder not to squirm as the pressure on my bladder constantly increased, changing from uncomfortable to painfully urgent.

I had hoped they'd come for me when they were finished eating; only they didn't. Instead they sat there, talking, laughing, and occasionally touching. There was Malik's typical giggle as his hand went for the blond’s cock. Gods, no! If they started that now, my bladder would rupture before they were done.

I forgot about my pride. "Hey," I called out over the fire, "hey, I need to piss!"

Oh, how funny they found that. When they were done snickering, Sigur came over and untied me. The problem was, my arms were still numb, and I couldn't move them at all. I was trembling so badly with the exertion of holding my piss in that Sigur had to help me to even get to my knees. I leaned heavily against him as the needles and pins in my arms set in, turning fast into a fiery pain that joined the ache in my nether regions.

"Need help?" he asked smugly.

"Yes," I ground out.

Holding me against his chest with one hand, he reached into my pants with the other one and got my cock out, aiming it so I wouldn't piss on my own feet. His hand was warm and steady, his touch on my flesh light, but it made me so antsy that at first I couldn't let go at all. Then a faint dribble began to flow. Well, I had been clamping down on that muscle for quite a long time. When it finally started to really rush out of me, my eyes teared up with the relief of it.

"Imagine," Sigur whispered in my ear, "imagine, how I could have made you beg for it, for me to touch your cock."

"I'd rather have pissed myself," I snarled back.

"Would you?" He gave my still pissing cock a squeeze. I gasped. He repeated that a few times. It was the eeriest feeling. As soon as the flow trickled out, I became hard embarrassingly fast. His hand was calloused, rough, but, by Luki, he knew what he was doing, the bastard. And I had gone without for far too long. Leaning back into him, I closed my eyes and let him maul me as he wished.

I was bucking into his hand, and really close, when he asked, "Want to come?"

"Yes!" I moaned.

"I wonder what else I could get out of you now. Maybe a 'please let me come, master'?"

Not even waiting for an answer, he stopped what he was doing and pushed me away, so that I crashed to the ground, quivering hard-on and all. I missed the spot I'd pissed on only by inches.

"Fuck!" I screamed. Sigur hovered above me, gloating smugly. What was worse, Malik sashayed toward us, too. His eyes went wide when he saw me, my hard, purple cock waving in the air. With an expression of malicious glee in his face he practically crowed, "Hehe, not getting any again, scarhead?"

Under their disdainful eyes I tucked my aching member back in.

"Now go and clean the dishes," my master snarled.

I didn't move. After all, I hadn't sworn to obey, I thought.

"Oh, so is this how it's going to be, slave? Fine with me!" Sneering, he drew his dagger. My fingers itched to do something, to attack him, snatch it out of his fingers. I wanted to grab him by his long blond hair, pull his head back and press the blade into the soft hollow of his throat—

Only, I couldn't. I had sworn. But I wanted it badly, even more than I'd wanted to come a few moments ago.

Sigur had watched my inner struggle with a smug, arrogant expression on his face. Probably he was looking forward to carving me up some more. Well, I wasn't going to let him have the pleasure.

"Put your stupid knife away. I'll do it," I muttered and walked over to the fire. I gathered their plates and mugs up and carried them to the stream. On one plate lay a few small pieces of bread and a bit of cheese. I wondered if letting me eat his leftovers was Sigur's method of humiliating me, but I didn't care much one way or the other, and ate it all. Then I cleaned their things up. I drank as much as I could, too, not knowing when I'd get water again.

When I loaded the horses, I discovered that everything there came from our - Ragen's - camp. They had to have taken the things when I was unconscious. Looking back at Sigur, I realized that the clothes he wore seemed familiar, too. So they had spent quite a while raiding the camp for useful stuff. Oh Skadi. Worried, I went over to Malik.

"What do you want, scarhead?" he asked, giving me his usual sneer.

"What did you do to Enki?" I asked without preamble.

The boy shrugged. "He was okay when we left. Sigur dressed up his wound. He said Enki would be fine. He should know, he's a healer."

"Sigur - a healer? Healers don't fight like that!"

"Well, he does. Now leave me alone, or I tell him you attacked me and he'll punish you!"

"Listen, brat," I growled, stepping up to him to give him a good piece of my mind. He didn't stay to listen, though. Yelling, "Sigur, Sigur! He’s threatening me!" the boy spun round on the spot and dashed away from me toward the blond who'd been filling the skins by the river.

Malik ran right into the Sigur's arms, and the blond of course hugged him and patted his back comfortingly. The glare he sent me over the boy's shoulder promised nothing good.

"Come here, slave!" he bellowed, and with a heavy heart I went. I already knew it would be useless to defend myself. Sigur's eyes were cold with fury.

"This poor boy has suffered enough at your hands," he said reprovingly. "If you ever touch him again, I'll make you suffer. A lot. Do you understand?"

I nodded sharply, the injustice of it all bitter in my mouth. Malik, who was still huddling in Sigur's embrace, turned his head and smirked at me.

"Answer me, slave!"

"I understand. I won't harm him," I said tamely.

By Bilari, how I wished I'd tanned the boy's hide when I still had the opportunity! As things were now, the only one who'd get a good thrashing was probably me.

Sigur's eyes were still boring into mine. "You're scum of the earth," he declared. "To molest and hurt an innocent child!" He came closer and spit in my face.

Rage like I'd never known flooded my heart and settled hard and heavy like a stone in my breast. But I held on. I didn't kill him, didn't even twitch to attack him. I didn't attempt to tell him the truth either. He wouldn't have believed me anyway.

"Listen," I said instead, "we should leave a message for my people, tell them what happened. If we don't they'll come after us."

"You think they'd want someone like you back?"

"Their leader is my uncle. He'd come for me."

"Ragen?" He considered. "I don't want that one after me. Yes, write your message. We'll leave it in the next village."

"Thank you," I said.

Menacingly, he put a hand on his dagger and looked at me with narrowed eyes. What did he want now?! Oh, right, I remembered.

"Thank you, master!" I amended. Bastard.

We travelled fast that day, always westward, the white-peaked mountains on our right. Sigur and Malik rode side by side, I, leading the fourth horse, behind them. In the evening the boy cooked a stew from a rabbit Sigur had caught. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and felt faint with hunger. And it smelled so good!

Like this morning, I got only scraps. Malik's plate was licked clean, but Sigur had actually left a good portion on his, I realized as I ate hungrily. I also scraped out the stew that was stuck to the iron pot. When I was done scrubbing the dishes (with sand and a wet cloth, as we were no longer traveling along the river), I laid out the blankets for the night, mine a bit aside from theirs. Of course Malik came over and pulled my blanket still farther away from theirs and the fire. I guess I could be glad that he hadn’t taken it away completely.

They sat together, sipping wine and talking companionably, and at last they cuddled up under their blankets where they proceeded to make love as if I wasn't lying there, just a few feet away. Listening to them, watching them, made me horny and sad at the same time. It seemed I wasn’t even a person to them. Just someone to order around, to snarl at. Someone to detest. Only the second day, and I felt so alone, so miserable. I wondered if I ever would become accustomed to this, and what kind of person I would be then.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't know if I dreamed at all, but when I woke up, my cheeks were once again wet with tears. It was dark, the middle of the night. In the pale light of the moon I saw a dark figure looming above me, and something with a metallic gleam - a sword. I feigned sleep, hoping whoever this was hadn't seen my open eyes. My mind was racing. Thanks to the blond bastard I was unarmed. So I waited.

There was a short but loud skirmish where Sigur and Malik lay. A few choice swear words, a cry for help in Malik’s high voice, and an oomph – probably from Sigur, I thought. Then quiet again, aside from some panting and rustling.

The man above me spoke. "Tarik?"

Oh, Gods. Uncle Ragen. In my heart the joy of seeing him warred with the dread of him seeing me like this.

"Yes, it's me," I said, getting to my feet.

Immediately he grabbed me in a strong hug.

"By the Gods, boy, we found you! I was worried sick!" he called out.

"I'm okay," I said, trying to calm him.

"And it's good that it is so! Your mother would have my hide if anything happened to you!"

I looked down. "She might anyway."

Somebody had relit the fire. From the corner of my eye I saw Bolgar raising his mighty arm to take a swing at Sigur, whom he held by the neck with his other hand. It surely would cause severe damage if it hit. I couldn't let it happen.

"Bolgar, stop! Don't hurt him!"

Bolgar hesitated, Sigur dangling helplessly in his strong grip.

"Tarik, he took you prisoner. He hurt Enki, stole our things! We've every right to punish him!" he shouted.

"You can't," I said. "You have to let him go."

Snorting, Bolgar let Sigur drop like a bag of bones. The blond landed heavily, but tried to scramble to his feet immediately. Bolgar just grabbed him by his hair and held him in place. Sigur’s glower finally settled on me. There was hopeless fury, mixed with contempt. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Tarik, why? What happened?" Ragen asked.

I started to answer, but the words were stuck in my throat. I just couldn’t, not in front of everyone. Thankfully, Ragen saw the state I was in. He pulled me to the side.

"Tarik, whatever it is, tell me, damnit!"

"The bastard owns me," I bit out.

Ragen’s eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Owns you? How?"

"I swore I'd be his slave. I swore it on my mother's life."

“You-- what?” Ragen yelled, grabbing me by my shoulders and shaking me. “Has Luki addled your brains? What the hell did you do that for?"

I pulled out of his grip and told him the sorry tale, leaving out nothing. When I was done, he rubbed his eyes in exasperation.

"You know, some parts of this are almost funny, in a very twisted way. By the gods, I want to box your ears! Of all the stupid things to do! Your mother will kill me when she hears this. And you, and probably him, too.”

He took a deep breath and carried on, “Do you really feel bound by this oath? The circumstances--"

"Don't say it, Ragen," I interrupted. "I swore my oath and I will hold onto it. You can't kill the bastard. I have to go with him. My honor demands it."

He just threw me an exasperated glance.

"You know, Tarik," he said then, "I don't have to listen to you. You’re still young, and I think you’re not in your right mind at the moment. I could kill him and you'd be free."

Be free. Oh, how much I wanted that!

In a move he didn't anticipate, I drew Ragen's sword from its sheath and pressed its tip right under his breastbone.

"I took an oath, Uncle. On my mother's life. I bloody won't let you kill that man."

He looked at the sword, then at me. Shaking his head, he took a step back. "Gods, boy. What am I going to tell your mother?"

"Tell her," I said hoarsely, "that I chose the honorable way. That in my heart I know that I'm doing the right thing. Tell her that."

Sometime during our talk, Rikk had stepped up to us. Now he said, "You're following your heart? I can understand that. There certainly seems to be a bond between you and this man - you marked him as yours, he marked you as his--" He smiled at me mischievously.

"What? What?" I sputtered. "What? A bond? No! It's not like that at all!"

Rikk grinned, while Ragen shook his head once more. Just like me, he seemed to have his doubts about the astuteness of Rikk's explanation.

"Come here, boy," Ragen said. He hugged me, then pushed me a few inches away to look into my eyes searchingly. "Tarik, I'll let you do this. Just promise me this. Getting yourself killed without fighting back is not an honorable thing. If it comes to the worst, you have to get out. Don't let him kill you. Don't let him destroy who you are. Even as your master he doesn’t have the right. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded. "Yes, Uncle Ragen."

"Then promise me."

"I promise. I won't let him kill me."

"Or destroy you."

"Or destroy me."

He took a heavy breath and, gripping my arm tightly, led me over to where Sigur still knelt, now tightly bound and held in Bolgar's heavy grip. Bolgar seemed ready to throttle the blond, whereas Sigur's face was absolutely without expression now. Dagger in hand, Ragen crouched down beside him. A bit to the left, I saw Malik clinging to Rikk tightly.

"My nephew says I can't kill you," Ragen hissed, looking like there wasn't much he'd rather do.

Sigur's eyes flew up to meet mine. His were cold as glaciers. He pressed his lips together tightly and stayed silent. I realized I still held Ragen's sword in my hand. Probably the blond thought I wanted to do the honors myself, rather than let my uncle do it.

I knelt down beside him. Exchanging Ragen's sword for his dagger, I began to cut the bastard's bonds. When I was done I got up and offered him my hand to pull him to his feet.

He accepted, but even as he barely stood he hissed into my ear," This changes nothing, slave!"

I couldn't suppress a small grin, but I replied humbly, "Yes, master."

I heard Rikk giggle and saw Ragen and Bolgar wince.

"Well, we better be off," Sigur stated, "Come on, slave."

Ragen stepped in his way. "And where do you intend to go? And how, if I may ask? Do you think, besides my nephew who insists you own him, I'll let you also keep the horses and other things you stole?"

"If you value your nephew's well-being, you will!" Sigur shot back, attempting to shove Ragen out of his way. Of course, Ragen refused to budge. Instead he growled, "Do you have a death-wish, man? I've already been very close to killing you tonight!"

Just as I thought things would get ugly after all, Bolgar stepped in. "It's the middle of the night. Let's postpone this till morning. Our heads will be clearer and our hearts calmer after a bit of sleep and a breakfast."

I let out the air I hadn't known I'd been holding. After a loaded pause Sigur and Ragen each gave a terse nod. They were both so wound up, the air around them seemed to be crackling with tension. Malik, I saw, was still holding on to Rikk. I couldn't blame him. Sighing inwardly, I gathered up our rumpled blankets and asked Sigur, "Where should I spread them, master?"

There was complete and deadly silence all around. A giggle from Rikk made me realize what I'd just said. My uncle's eye-brows had risen nearly to his hairline, and Bolgar seemed to be swallowing down a few choice words.

Sigur, however, looked at me calculatingly. Oh, shit. I was such an idiot. It would give the bastard such a high, humiliating me, using me like that with my friends and family witnessing it. He probably was only hesitating because he couldn’t be sure that Ragen would let him get away with it.

"Please," I said quietly, "don't. Not here." My insides were crawling with dismay.

He looked at me coldly. "Your uncle would kill me for sure if I did that. Besides, I'm not nearly desperate enough to touch an ugly bitch like you."

With that, he'd hit a sore spot dead on. I just had to strike back. "You bloody bastard! You got hard under me when I--"

"Shut up, slave!” he grated, his voice cold with fury. “Not. Another. Word!" He looked like he wanted to skin me alive. Guess he didn’t like to be reminded of how he’d responded to my hurting him. Probably was eaten up by the shame of it.

I did the wise thing, which was shutting up and lying down, my back turned to him. Around us, the others did the same. I heard him settle down behind me. No sign of Malik; he obviously had decided to stay with Rikk that night.

After a while the talking around us ebbed down. I couldn't sleep, of course. Rolling over onto my back, I regarded the night sky. It was clear and starry, with no signs of the impending autumn rains yet. I watched the stars for a long time, always conscious of Sigur’s silent figure behind my back. What if Rikk was right? Was there a bond between Sigur and me, apart from our mutual hatred? It was an intriguing theory, but one I’d rather not believe in.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where I got fed up with this fic seven years ago and stopped writing anything at all. It may be a bit bumpy in places. Also unbeta'd. Feel free to point out any mistakes (there have to be quite a few, I'm not a native speaker) and I'll correct them. Thank you and enjoy.

TARIK:

"I don't know what to make of this Sigur," Ragen said as he pulled me aside the next morning. "I've spoken with Malik who says he's a very nice guy, and that he wants to go with him rather than us today."

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at the prospect of the brat being along to make my situation yet more unbearable. Uncle Ragen, giving me a knowing look, continued.

"Then I talked to Enki. Sigur has treated his wound expertly, and he told Enki that he was a healer by profession, and only accidentally with those slavers who attacked us. So overall, he seems to be a good man. But what I've heard and seen about his treatment of you makes me wonder if I really should allow you to go with him."

"Well, he hates me," I explained, "and he's got reason to. It's mostly my fault."

Ragen shook his head. "I've seen hate. Often enough to know that this is something different. Tarik, the man is obsessed with you. They way he looks at you-- I'm worried about how far he'll go to get at you. I know I said I'd let you go, but--"

"Uncle, you must!"

He stemmed his fists in his waist. "No, I don't, nephew! If I wanted to I could put him in chains and sell him on the market in Aquilegia!"

He huffed. I stood my ground, never wavering. Probably this all was stupid of me. But I'm young, and aren't the young entitled to rash and reckless behavior? Yeah, it can make you fall on your ass spectacularly (and wasn't Rikk a rather good example for that?), but it can also offer you chances and lead you new ways.

I knew that one shouldn't care about honor when it's about saving one's own hide. And, I hadn't told it Ragen, but honor wasn't my sole motivation. I wasn't ready to let that blond Brygian go. There was unfinished business between us, and my gut feeling was that I needed to deal with it. So, no running away for me.

Ragen had been watching me closely Now he said, "Hm. Nephew, I strongly suspect that there is something you're not telling me. So, the Gods know how I shall explain it to your mother, but I will let you go with that man. Before you leave, though, I shall talk to him."

"Thank you, uncle." I was glad I didn't have to fight him about this. Relieved, I began packing our things.

"Your uncle won't be able to save you if you go with Sigur," a voice hissed behind me. I jumped up and saw Malik, the little demon, stand there, glaring at me hatefully as had become his wont.

"And you'll enjoy watching it," I said. "Isn't that why you're going with us?"

He smirked. "No. But it's a nice plus."

My hands itched with the desire to strangle the brat's delicate neck. Still, my position being what it was at the moment, I wanted to know his motivations. "Malik, why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you?"

"You need to ask?" he cried , his voice rising. "You mean, besides making me work till my arms hurt? Besides beating me? You're almost the meanest guy I ever met!"

"Beating you? Six measly swats? And, boy, you deserved them!" I was towering over him, and he took a step back.

"You're a monster! You're ugly!" he shouted.

A knot lodged in my throat. "A monster," I snarled. "A molester of children. An ugly bitch. Scum of the earth, right, Malik? I've heard it often enough lately." It sounded bitter, even to me. For just a moment, Malik seemed ashamed.

"You have to understand," he said, stepping farther back. "I need someone's protection. As long as I'm on Sigur's good side, I'm safe, maybe. I need him to hate you. If he starts fancying you, he'll send me away. I'm not strong enough to make it on my own."

I could even follow his reasoning. "Why don't you stay with Ragen, then? I thought you liked Rikk?"

He looked down. "I'd just be in their way."

"Malik," I said, "I'll never get between you and Sigur. I'm not interested in him that way, and the same goes for him. Like you said, he hates me."

Malik laughed angrily. "You're stupid. You don't get it at all, don't you?"

Puzzled, I asked him what he was on about, but he wouldn't answer me. Instead, he threw me a last vengeful glare and stalked away. I continued packing. Bolgar came and brought additional supplies and clothes as well as three horses and a tent for us. I was just done tying the last knot when I noticed Ragen and Sigur approaching us.

"We're leaving, slave," Sigur declared coldly. My heart sank. I saw Ragen's and Bolgar's faces freeze, and their knuckles whiten. Rikk bit his lip in dismay. Sigur just jumped on his horse and ordered me to help Malik get on his as well. Ragen stepped up to Sigur and gave him a bag with coins, throwing him a meaningful glance. I got hugs from my uncle, Bolgar and Rikk, who was the only one to hug Malik, too. I saw him whisper something to the boy, but couldn't understand what it was. Malik made a grimace, but nodded reluctantly.

And then we rode off. It was a hard thing for me to do. My face felt like it was frozen in its ugly, forbidding mask, my fists were clenched around the reigns. I didn't cry, though, and I didn't look back.

The following days passed, one like the other. Malik and Sigur rode side by side, appearing to be best friends, or, were it not for Malik's dark skin, like father and son by day, and like lovers at night. I rode behind them, slept a good distance away from the fire on the hard ground without a blanket, ate their leftovers and did menial tasks. I knew what was expected of me; Sigur didn't even have to order me around anymore. I hadn't spoken in days, and no one had spoken to me either.

The nights were bad. It was getting colder, and I lay there trying to suppress my shivering, watching them sullenly as they writhed and bucked and panted by the fire. I had always seen myself as a silent, solitary man, had thought that I didn't need other people around. During these miserable nights I came to realize that I just had never been really lonely before. Now, that I was experiencing loneliness, I didn't like it one bit. I missed my friends and family dearly.

Watching Sigur and Malik, though, I noticed one thing: Whenever they had sex, it was the boy who instigated it. It was always he who would come on to the blond, and Sigur, not seeming really eager, would shrug his shoulders as if he was thinking, 'Why not,' and comply.

Was Malik right to be worried that Sigur would eventually tire of him? Was that even something he had experienced before? That he was only safe as long as he was desirable? If so, then his wish for security became very understandable to me. Still, Sigur seemed to genuinely like him; in spite of myself I hoped he wouldn't send the boy away.

After nearly two weeks of traveling, we reached the outskirts of Genoa. I had gathered that Sigur was headed home, which meant Brygia. This late in the year, the mountain passes were not a viable option, the only possibility left was to catch a late ship that would cross the mare nostrum, go through the straits of Djebel-at-Tarik and then along the coasts of Porto, Vazca and Gallia to Brygia.

In an inn that seemed frequented mostly by merchants, Sigur rented a room. While he and the boy sat in the dining parlor and feasted on roast mutton and canary cream - probably from the money Ragen had provided - I unloaded the horses, rubbed them dry, fed and watered them. I carried the baggage up to our room. The landlord had laid out fresh linens which I put on the blankets and mattress of the one big bed. It was big enough for the three of us, but I knew I wouldn't lie in it.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs announced Sigur and Malik. Seconds later they broke through the door, delicious smells of meat and heavy wine wafting in with them.

"Slave!" boomed Sigur so loud it made my ears ring. "Prepare a bath for us!"

"In here?" I asked stupidly. The landlord had shown us a bath downstairs that seemed reasonably clean.

"Of course in here," declared Sigur. "Do you think the boy wants to parade naked in front of strangers?"

I thought that probably that was just what the brat would want, but then I called myself to order. With my new understanding about Malik's situation, I had decided to be nicer to him. Without a word I pumped water, carried it into the kitchen where I poured it into a big cauldron to heat it up, hauled a solid wooden tub upstairs to our room, and at last huge amounts of hot and cold water. When Sigur finally deemed the tub full enough, he sent me downstairs a last time for soap and towels.

Sigur and Malik got naked, while I sat on the floor and started cleaning and oiling bridles. I didn't want to see the lean, elegant planes of Sigur's body, or the golden fuzz on his tanned skin. I didn't want to see his long wheat-colored hair open, fanning out over his muscle-defined back. My cock began to stir once more at these thoughts, and I gritted my teeth against it.

A lot of splashing was going on in that tub. The floor around it was swimming with water which I would have to mop up. They fooled around like kelpies at full moon. I hated it, hated them. I wanted to join them so badly. But then Malik moved against Sigur in certain way, and their frolicking gained a different quality. A knot formed in my throat and I looked away again.

After a while I heard the telltale gasp Sigur made whenever he buried his cock deep inside Malik's body. Rhythmic splashing set in, slow at first, then speeding up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malik squatting atop Sigur, riding him energetically and with fervor. Sigur's hands were on his hips, guiding him, supporting him, lifting him up, then pulling him back down. The blond's head was thrown back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed.

Mine were glued to the couple now, the bridles in my hands long forgotten. In the midst of their frantic coupling Sigur suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me. Our gazes locked. My cock hardened to the point of almost-pain; I couldn't help myself, I had to reach down into my pants, get it out and grab and squeeze it. Sigur smirked at me before closing his eyes again. With a shout he reached completion shortly afterward, holding Malik immobile against his strong body while he pumped his seed into him. Malik frigged his boner a few times, then he let out a scream in his high, boyish voice, shooting his come all over the Sigur’s chest.

My balls were drawing up, too. It seemed it had been ages since I'd come the last time, back then, watching Malik jack off in my tent. I closed my eyes, my whole body tensed up and my breath caught.

"STOP IT, SLAVE! RIGHT NOW!"

The piece of soap hit my belly, hard. I think I howled in frustration as Sigur stopped me in the last possible moment. It was hellish. More than painful. My hard tool quivered and bobbed like a wishbone, it took all I had not to fuck up into the empty air and hold my pelvis still.

Hysterical laughter made my humiliation complete, but it was not enough to make my mindless cock go down. My face burned with shame; I took a few sobbing breaths and with trembling hands I fumbled my aching member back into my pants. I was so frustrated I felt like crying. God damn them all to hell.

I was about to take up the bridles again when Sigur interrupted me once more. Dried, but only half-dressed in pants that rode low on his hips, his hair in wet tangles around him, he stepped up to me, and my mouth went dry and my heart seemed to halt for a moment. And I wanted to run, but I wasn't sure if toward him or away from him.

"Go, clean yourself up, slave. You may use our water. Then carry that stuff back down. And dry that floor, while you're at it."

Reluctantly I got to my feet and to the tub. The water looked less than wholesome, whitish stuff floating around in it what could only be Sigur's and Malik's semen. Yuck.

"Thank you, but I'd rather wash downstairs," I declared.

I bent down to the bucket to start emptying the tub, when a well-aimed push sent me tumbling into the water head-first. Sputtering I came up to see Malik standing there, smirking gleefully.

"I'll kill you yet!" I screamed, scrambling to get back up.

An iron fist grabbed my neck.

"Oh no, you won't. It's high time you learned your station, slave."

And I was pressed under, and held there for an eternity. I fought all I could, but of course I found no purchase against Sigur who was towering above me. When my movements became sluggish from loss of breath, he let me up, just long enough to take one desperate breath, and then I was pressed under again. Several repeats of this, and I wasn't fighting anymore, only desperately trying to catch air whenever I got the chance.

In the end, Sigur dropped me to the floor. I landed heavily on hands and knees, coughing and wheezing while tears and snot were running down my face. My eyes burned from the lye soap and I had a taste in my mouth that was more than vile. I spit several times, this close to being sick, but I was not going to give them the pleasure.

Sigur grabbed me by my soggy, soiled hair and pulled my head brutally backward. "Do you remember, slave, how you did this to me, by the river?" he hissed. "And do you remember what you did afterward?"

I groaned, remembering all too well.

"I think we can say I got my revenge now for you nearly drowning me." Another yank at my hair. "But what about the rest? You, cutting my cock, threatening to geld me, huh? I haven't gotten revenge for that yet!"

I pulled away from his grip and stood, leaving strands of my hair in his fist in the process.

"How can you want revenge for that?“ I sneered. "The way I remember it, you got off on it so much your cock was hard as damasq steel."

I stepped toward him till our noses almost touched. His eyes were narrowed angrily, but his cheeks suddenly were flushed and he was breathing fast.

He took a step back and seemed about to say something. But then a jolt ran through him, and suddenly his fist crashed in my chest so forcefully I went down. I hadn't even seen it coming.

"Get this mess cleaned up!" he yelled. "Before I have you whipped!"

"You should have done that in the first place," remarked Malik maliciously. "He shows no proper behavior for a slave."

I wanted to howl. Instead I gritted my teeth and obeyed. But downstairs, when I washed myself after having carried down the dirty water and the tub, I swore to myself that, honor or no, I'd take the first opportunity to run. Enough was enough; I’d reached a point where I couldn’t bear this anymore.

I shouldn't have waited that long. The clinking of metal awoke me after an uncomfortable night spent on the cold, hard floor; and before I knew it, I was chained to that bastard Sigur.

The broke fast and even left enough of it for me. Then we went to the harbor. Sigur lead us to a big galley, the ‘Seawitch’ that was just being loaded with merchandise. He chained me to the anchor chain, and he and Malik disappeared with the ship's captain, probably to bargain the price. Well, with what Ragen had given him, he shouldn't have to worry about it.

They returned smelling of brandy and clapping each other's backs. Still laughing, they dragged me down below deck toward the oars and chained me to one of them. I couldn’t believe it at first, but when I did, something died inside of me, leaving me in the darkest despair I had ever known. Sigur had sold me as a galley slave.


	14. Chapter 14

TARIK:

The following week was the worst of my life.  It was the feeling of a dark, bleak hopelessness that did me in more than anything else.  Physically, I was reasonably fine.  Life as a galley slave isn’t the living hell some stories floating around campfires make it out to be.  After the first night, none of us were in chains anymore.  We got regular meals three times a day, consisting mostly of soup and biscuits.  The nights were cold, so after our shifts the overseer usually gave us each a beaker of wine.

I had received new clothes, too, a coarse grayish tunic, a vest, two shirts, and two canvas breeches.  No shoes, I wouldn’t need them anyway; it wasn’t as if I’d be walking anywhere anytime soon.  We were six men to an oar and worked in shifts of two.  At first I was constantly worn out, my muscles not used to this kind of repetitive motion, but I adapted to it fast, and after this one week I already felt a lot stronger than ever before.

A lot of my companions were free men, paying thus for their passage.  Others were prisoners that had been sentenced to do ten years on a galley for various reasons.  As far as I knew I was the only slave there.  The only one of them who’d never get off that damned ship again.  I’d be slaving away at that oar until the day I died, or until I got too weak and they’d throw me to the sharks.

Because I was rather tall my place on the bench was next to the aisle, while the man I shared shifts with was smaller and thus rowing closer to the ship’s wall.  When it was our turn to rest, we also shared a hammock.  It was crowded, but Cord (that was his name) said we were lucky not having to sleep on the benches.  Anyway, we made do, and when we lay crosswise, his head at my feet and vice versa, it was almost comfortable.

But there was never any privacy to be had.  In the end we did what everyone did - we jacked off together at the same time, so that we both would focus on ourselves, rather than on our comrade.  Cord was a good companion.  I instantly liked him and we talked a lot during free time.  When I explained what had happened to me, he listened intently and was sympathetic and didn’t even tell me how stupid I had been.

He spoke a bit about himself, too.  Originally from Dakia, which explained his dark, handsome looks, he’d decided to travel and see the world.  He was a younger son, so he had nothing much to expect from his family; and he’d felt bored at home, anyway.  He was especially interested in art and had learned with a painter in Genoa.  But then he’d become restless again, and on the spur of the moment had hired on the ‘Seawitch’ for his first trip to a northern country.

 

One day we were lying in our hammock, which was rocking ever so slightly, comfortably wrapped up in a blanket and sipping our wine.  I’d noticed him watching me, when he suddenly said, “You know, I’d really love to paint you.”

My first instinct was to clog him a good one, because he had to be mocking me.

“Paint me? What for? Are you collecting for a cabinet of horrors?”

He shrugged.  “I find your face interesting, that’s all.  I like the contrast in it.  You must have been really good looking before that axe hit you, and in a way you still are.  The scars make it more intense, I think.  A kind of sinister beauty, especially now, that you’ve stopped scowling so much.”

Now I really kicked him, right into his belly.  Not too hard, but he certainly felt it.

“Ouch!” he said, looking affronted.  “What was that for?”

“You talk too much.  Sinister beauty, my ass!  And you know I’ve got plenty reasons for scowling.”  I don’t know why, but suddenly I was feeling defensive and awkward.

He threw me an assessing glance.  “You don’t believe me, right?  Because those two, Sigur and Malik, kept calling you ugly.  You’d rather believe them.”

“Shut up or I’ll hurt you for real,” I grated, not wanting to hear anymore.

Thankfully he dropped the topic.  I decided to forget about the incident and told myself that he’d had too much wine, probably.

When we weren’t resting or rowing, we were led to the ‘Seawitch’s’ deck to do other labors, like sail-mending or scrubbing the wooden planks.  I enjoyed these tasks, because it was at least something different from the mind-numbing slaving away at the oars.  And, on these occasions I was outside in the open, which meant blue – or gray – sky, and above all, fresh air.

Sometimes I caught a glimpse of Sigur and Malik, strolling companionable down the deck, Sigur’s arm often draped across Malik’s shoulders.  Seeing them like this hurt, hurt a lot and it made me yearn for something I could never have.  My gaze followed them, but they never looked at me, and when they vanished from my eyes again, I often had to swallow around a hard knot in my throat.

I knew that it had been my own stupidity that had brought me into this situation and in a way I had accepted that.  Trying to do the honorable thing, I’d had no doubt that Sigur would do the same.  Now I had to realize how terribly wrong my assumptions about him had been.  If he’d had even a shred of honor, he wouldn’t have sold me away.  If there had been something - anything - between us, like I stupidly had believed, he wouldn’t ignore me so completely like he was doing now.  So yes, I was kind of young and inexperienced, but still, that I could have been so wrong about that man stupefied me, and the price I was paying now was staggeringly high.  This one thing, this one error in judgment would destroy me.  It was a truth I found difficult to accept.

 

We were nearing the port of Savilia which meant I was back in chains while my companions carried cargo on board, eggs, lemons, hardtack, and most of all, water.  That night on the ship was very quiet; nearly everyone was off board, spending the evening in certain établissements close to the harbor.  Only the convicts and a few guards were left. And I.

It was early morning when they returned.  Cord settled beside me, reeking of cheap brandy and sickly-sweet pussy, happy and more than half-drunk.  He fumbled in his coat and pressed something into my hands.  It was an orange, and I couldn’t help the smile that broke out over my face.

I gave him a short hug.  “Thank you, Cord.  I haven’t had anything fresh in ages!”

I peeled the fruit almost reverently, taking my time, and I ate it as slowly as I could relishing its juiciness, its aroma that was at the same time tart and sweet, and when I was done I licked my fingers until every last citrusy hint was gone.

Far above me, I heard a snort, and when I looked up, I caught a glimpse at a head of long, wheat-blond hair turning away from the ladder opening that led on deck.  Sigur.  What the hell had he been doing there?  The thought didn’t leave me alone, gave me hope where there wasn’t any reason for it.  But the days passed, we were back on the open seas, and nothing happened.

 

Three of days after Savilia we passed the straits of Djebel At-Tarik.  After that the sea became a lot rougher, and, since we were heading straight north now, the nights a lot colder.  We got extra blankets, and the wine we still received every evening was now laced with a good amount of stronger liqueur.  Cord and I had taken to sleeping in each other’s arms, it was warmer that way.  It was cramped, but I enjoyed the closeness of his strong, warm body.  I think he liked the closeness, too.  At least he never gave me a hint that he minded.

Three weeks later, after a stop for water and provisions at the port of Santiago, Cord suddenly fell ill.  It started with a fever.  The next day he complained about stomach pains and cramps, dragging himself to the head time and again.  Maybe he’d caught a disease during his shore leave.

He didn’t stay the only one.  More and more men became sick, and the ominous words “bloody flux” began to make the round.  I did what I could for Cord, cleaned him up, tried to cool his fever rubbing him down with wet rags, fetched him water and helped him drink.  He was always thirsty, but more often than not he couldn’t keep the water down and brought it right back up.

So many men were sick that the captain made for the shore and we cast anchor in a sheltered bay.  Groups of men, Sigur and Malik among them, rowed to the beach in smaller ships, on the search for fresh water and food.  And on the ‘Seawitch’ the dying began.

I don’t know how it was above deck, but down below almost two thirds of the men were sick, and most of them died within days.  Every day we had to carry the dead bodies from board so they could be burned.  The dark smoke of the pyres clogged our noses and our lungs and clung to our hair and skin; I thought I’d never smell anything else again.

On the tenth day, Cord finally began to get better.  When he managed to keep a whole soaked biscuit down I knew he’d make it.  It was in the evening of the next day that I began feeling a bit off.  There was cold sweat on my brow and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“It’s the flux,” Cord said knowingly.  “Don’t worry, Tarik, you nursed me through it and I’m going to do the same for you.”

 

I don’t remember much of the next days, only that I felt sick as a dog and everything hurt.  I had a fever and most of the time I was unconscious.  When I was awake there seemed to be only vomiting and diarrhea and vomiting again.  My throat was always parched, but, like Cord, I couldn’t keep anything down, and in the end I even didn’t want to try anymore and turned my head away from his touch.

It was no use, though.  Firm hands held me in place and a soft voice, not Cord’s, said, “Just keep his lips moist for now.  He’ll take some water this way without his body knowing it.”

Another, higher voice spoke then, but I was already sinking back into the darkness, and really, I didn’t care anymore.  And it wasn’t that dark where I was going, either.  A kind of dawn seemed to be setting in, a milky, rose-colored light.  I even thought I heard birds.  My feet were getting lighter and lighter, my steps easier, as I walked toward it.

There was grass under my feet, wet with morning dew, and in front of me a group of birch trees.  Somebody was sitting under their boughs.  As I came closer the person looked up and, without the slightest feeling of surprise, I recognized my father, looking exactly like he had the last time I saw him; the long hair, dark like mine, the nearly black eyes that made both of us always appear a bit inscrutable, the wiry built that was typical for his southern origin.  I had been a boy of 14 then, and he had been about to go on a long expedition with Uncle Ragen from which he never returned.

Now he rose to his feet.  Too my amazement I found I was towering him by at least half a head, and he wasn’t exactly small either.  Smiling, he extended a hand toward me, reaching for me.

“Oh, Tarik,” he said.  “How you’ve grown!  But you’re still so young.”

He sounded a bit sad, and his hand, which had been about to take mine, sunk down, slowly.  I took a step toward him, drawn by that somber expression on his face.

“No,” he said.  “No, please, not yet.”

Our gazes met and locked.  I wanted to step up to him, very badly, but suddenly my feet were like lead, and I couldn’t.  And then I felt something pulling me away.  The grass under my feet, the birch trees, the birds’ song, everything faded, the last thing to go were my father’s dark, imploring eyes.  Through a vortex of whirling colors and strange, echoing noises I was hurled back.

Back into a chaos of pain and a terrible weakness, of hands clutching at me and voices yelling my name.  I managed to open my eyes just a slit and saw Cord hovering over me, and on my other side Sigur and Malik, all three of them with similar expressions of anguish on their faces.

“Shut up,” I said, weakly.  It came out more like a whisper.  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, it was so dry.

“By Skadi,” whispered Cord, sounding completely pole-axed, “you’re back.  Oh, Tarik.  You were gone!  You weren’t breathing anymore!  The goddess sent you back!  I didn’t think it was possible!”

“No goddess,” I croaked, and then, “water!”

Malik scrambled to my side, his eyes huge in his dark face.  Carefully he held a small beaker to my lips, while Cord helped me lift my head so I could drink.

“Slowly,” he warned, “just a few sips; you haven’t kept anything down in days.”

The water felt so good in my parched throat, I wanted to drink it all and never stop.  Too soon, Malik pulled the beaker away.  His hands were trembling, and he seemed skittish and nervous.

Cord lay my head back down.  I smiled up at him.  “Thank you, Cord.”

He swallowed hard and took one of my hands in his.  “I can’t believe it, Tarik.  I swear you were dead.  You looked dead!  But then Malik screamed your name, and Sigur and I, we grabbed you and shook you, and then suddenly your whole body jerked, and dang! you were breathing again.  I’ve never seen anything like it!”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.  I needed a bit of time to pull myself together.  When I opened them again, Cord and Malik were still staring at me while Sigur’s expression was pretty much unreadable.  Asshole.  I became aware that my stomach still ached, and I was tired and weary, and before I knew it my eyes fell closed again and I was out of it.

 

The next time I woke, there was only Cord by my side.  I drank again, this time a little more, and managed to nibble at a stale biscuit.  I was a bit more alert this time.  Looking around, I realized that I wasn’t on board of the ship anymore, but in some kind of tent instead.

“What happened?” I asked Cord.

“The bloody flux happened,” Cord replied.  “Killed more than two thirds of the men, among them the captain and first mate.  The ship’s like a swimming bone-yard.  I wouldn’t set foot on it if you paid me.  By Luki, I was glad when Sigur and Malik appeared and got us off board and onto land!  You’d never have made it if we had stayed there.”

How strange, I thought.  So Sigur and Malik had saved me.  Why, the hell, had they done that?  I wasn’t Sigur’s possession anymore, and they both hated me.  The captain was dead, so I was free again, wasn’t I?  But I was too weak to fight them at the moment.  Maybe they thought they could sell me to someone else?  Or keep me to humiliate me some more?  It didn’t quite fit with the expressions their faces had borne when I woke up, but these were the only thoughts I could come up with.  I wondered where they’d sell me to next.  A brothel was out, of course.  I wouldn’t have put it past them, but who would ever pay for touching me?  I shivered and closed my eyes, and, just for a short moment, wondered if I death wouldn’t have been preferable to this.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day I already felt a lot better.  Cord cared for me like a mother for her long lost child.  I enjoyed it a lot.  It was so different from how Sigur and Malik had treated me.  That night he cuddled up to me closely, keeping the cold at bay.  Autumn was turning to winter fast, and the storm season had set in early.  The gales coming in from the sea shook our tent and the rains were heavy.  Everything felt clammy, and even with Cord by my side, it took me long to get warm.

Across the embers, Sigur and Malik were going at it again.  Sigur was silent, while the brat probably could be heard for miles.  I was still too weak to feel anything but annoyance at their antics.  For Cord it seemed to be different.  His cock was hot and hard against my leg.  I sensed that he was about to turn away from me; he was kind of fidgeting, and I heard him swallow a few times.  Tentatively, I pressed back against his hard length.

At first he froze, but then he got the message and started moving against me, very slowly, trying to keep quiet as much as possible.  His arms were around me, pulling me close.  His hot breath in my ear made me shiver.  Even though I didn’t get hard, I thought this was amazingly hot.  He was humping me more and more urgently now; and the little gasps he couldn’t stop from escaping probably gave us away.  By Luki, it was so good!  When he spilled his seed all over my leg and ass, and _sighed my name,_ of all things, I realized that one doesn’t have to come to have great sex.

He had cleaned me up and murmured a quiet “thanks” in my ear, when I noticed how silent our companions were.  Too silent.  They had to have been watching us.  Well, fuck them.  I really didn’t give a shit.  They had fucked so often right under my nose, tough shit if it now was the other way ‘round.

I heard a dull sound, like a punch in the ribs, and then Malik’s boyish voice, whispering rather loudly, “Show’s over, Sigur!  Stop gawking and get back to it.”

And then Sigur’s growl, “Oh, go fuck yourself, brat.  I’m not in the mood anymore.”

I couldn’t help it, I snorted at that.  Cord was shaking with suppressed laughter, too.  Weakness or not, this was the best night I’d had in ages.  I fell asleep, still grinning.

It was barely dawn, when we were awoken by the sounds of fighting.  A heavy argument was going on, a distance away.  Sigur and Cord jumped up and took hold of their swords immediately.  Cautiously, Sigur pulled the flap of our tent open and peered through, Cord standing closely behind him.

When Sigur turned back around, his face was grim.

“They’re fighting about provisions,” he stated.  He threw me a considering glance.

“Are you able to ride yet?”

I considered the state I was in.  “Only if somebody holds me up.  You better go on without me.”

He scowled.  “That’s not for you to decide.  Malik, Cord, we’re leaving.  Hurry!  Pack our stuff and let’s be off.  The horses and some provisions are hidden an hour’s way east of here.  We’ll just have to see that no one follows us.”

“I don’t think I can walk that far,” I said quietly, thinking they’d never make it with me slowing them down.

Sigur was unperturbed.  “We’ll carry you.”

And so it happened.  Cord and Sigur alternately hauled my weak carcass, while Malik kept bitching the whole time about having to carry the rest of our stuff.  The track was very muddy, but the rain had finally stopped.  It took us a lot longer than one hour to reach the horses, and by that time I was close to fainting from sheer fatigue, even if I hadn’t done a thing except for letting myself be lugged around.

But we couldn’t afford to rest.  My companions packed the provisions and everything else on Malik’s horse, while I ended up on Cord’s.  I was so tired already, without his firm grip I would have fallen off after a very short time.  As it was, I fell into a state of semi-consciousness and only became slightly more alert, when they at some time dragged me off Cord’s horse and lugged me onto Sigur’s.

You’d have thought I was too weak to care, and I’d have agreed.  Only, that wasn’t the case.  Somehow, even so far gone as I was, I couldn’t help feeling aware of his warm, muscled presence behind me.  I’d known he was well-built, muscled and lean.  Even his smell was familiar, that alluring citrusy tartness I had first noticed in those too short moments when I’d had him under me, at my mercy.

Now I was enveloped in it, like I was in his strong arms which held me upright against his solid body.  My head lolled back to rest at his shoulder and I just couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said, half-asleep.  “I shouldn’t have carved your face up like that.”

There was no reply, but I thought that for a moment his arms gathered me a little more tightly against him.

 

SIGUR:

Fucking Luki on a crutch!  Now the wretch was sorry!  My first instinct was to throw the asshole sideways down into the hopefully thorny shrubbery.  Wasn’t it enough that he had totally humiliated me?  That he had made me crave his touch even when he was hurting me?  Had pissed on me?  Tried to make me his slave?

To make things worse, when he’d had the possibility of getting his freedom back, he’d done the honorable thing and stayed with me, had stayed my slave, because of his oath!  Oh, how that had made the sweet taste of revenge turn bitter in my mouth!  All the things I’d done to him, everything I’d put him through, it never had seemed enough, never had quenched my thirst for retribution.

Sometimes I hated myself for it.  But I just couldn’t let it go.  There was unresolved business between us, for sure.  And now, he, half-dead, was telling me he was sorry!  Maybe I could forgive him for cutting my face, yes.  I surely had forgiven him the pissing thing; after all, I had done that to him first.  But I certainly would never forgive him the rest: The knife at my balls, threatening to cut them off, the same knife making its way down my hard cock, _nicking me!,_ and worst of all the smug, _knowing_ grin on his face when he’d discovered my deepest secret – that I enjoyed what no man should, being overpowered, being made to submit.

No, I’d never forgive him that.  But when he was like this, weak, helpless, half-consciously nuzzling my neck, well, it was a bit harder to hate him.

We plodded on, steadily eastward.  The woods had given way to lower shrubbery and wide meadows whose flowers and herbs had already begun to turn brown.  We’d passed a stream and refilled our water skins.  Cord had been lucky, or skilled, with his sling and killed two rabbits.  The light was waning, and the clear sky promised a freezing night.  We had to find a sheltered place to put up our tent.

The large valley we were crossing didn’t show any signs of human presence, there were no paths, no huts, nor columns of smoke rising up from anywhere.  There hadn’t been signs of anybody following us, either, so we’d have a fire tonight.  I didn’t want to eat those rabbits raw.

Cord indicated a group of pine trees that lay ahead.  I nodded at him and he rode over to check them out.  At his encouraging wave, Malik and I followed him.

“That’s probably the best we’re going to find,” he said.

“Better than camping on the open plain,” I agreed.

Cord helped me get Tarik off my horse and gently laid him on the green.  In no time Malik and I had the tent up, and Cord had started a fire and skinned and gutted the rabbits.  For a painter, he was proving to be rather useful.

I found thyme and rosemary among the withered grass, and some wild onions and stuffed the rabbits with that, before roasting them on a hot stone I’d put at the edge of the fire.  The smell even awoke Tarik.  He managed to eat by himself, had a few sips of wine, but then he had to rest again.  The day had to have been hard for him.

Huddled in a blanket, I settled outside for the first watch.  Inside the tent, Cord had built a bed of furs and blankets, and was now cuddling up with Tarik.  I saw Malik hover next to them, hesitating.  He, too, couldn’t stand Tarik.  On the other hand, if he chose to lie alone, he’d probably freeze his pert little ass off.  Which would be a shame.

“Get in with them,” I said.  He nodded, shrugged, and went over to Cord’s side of the heap.

“No,” Cord said, looking up.  “Lie next to Tarik.  We have to keep him warm.”

Muttering obscenities and scowling darkly, Malik complied.  There was a lot of bumping and rearranging, but in the end the three of them seemed comfortable enough.  In the light of the dying fire I could see their heads lying close to each other.  I considered the picture, Malik’s short springy curls, Cord’s longer, wavy hair, Tarik’s long mane of black hair in their middle, and I found it intriguing.

They were so different, those three.  Cord, handsome and really open and easygoing; I had immediately taken a liking to him.  Then Tarik, whose character seemed to match his grim exterior perfectly.  Though sometimes there had been short, fleeting moments when I’d thought I’d gotten a glimpse at something completely different. Once, when Malik and I had been sharing the furs, I’d caught Tarik watching us with such an expression of longing in his eyes, that I had thought my own must have been playing tricks on me.

And at last there was Malik.  I knew he thought he was playing me.  He was so insecure after I refused to take him last night.  He probably thought that if I grew tired of him, I would send him away.  I wouldn’t, of course, not that he’d ever believe me if I told him that.  He didn’t trust me much, and I wondered if he trusted anybody at all.  I guess he had learned only to rely on himself, and who could blame him for that?

Around midnight, I woke him so that he could hold watch and settled in his place next to Tarik.  Thank the gods he was fast asleep.  Counting on his weakened condition I snuggled up to him closely, my nose almost buried in his hair, my soft cock against his ass crack.  My last conscious thought was that we should keep him like this: wiped-out and sleeping he was kind of bearable.

 

TARIK:

A good night’s sleep had me waking up early.  Glimpsing outside, I saw Cord, stoking up the fire.  Hopefully he would heat water for qahwa.  I hadn’t had any in ages, but knew that Uncle Ragen had packed some for us.

I felt a lot better: I was actually hungry, ravenous to be exact, and for once I wasn’t freezing.  It was almost a bit too hot under the blankets, with Sigur and Malik encasing me firmly on both sides.  Both were still fast asleep.  They had to be, or they wouldn’t be lying so close to me.  Both their faces were turned toward me, and morning wood poked at me from both sides.  Bastards.

Slowly I sneaked my hands under the blankets, going for their respective tackles.  Once I had found them, I loosely closed my hands around their balls and gave them a healthy squeeze.  Not damage-their-jewels hard, but they sure felt it.

They came up screaming like banshees.  Their eyes wide in shock they sat there, panting.  I let go of their balls and pushed myself up on my elbows.  Yawned, scratched my sack, arranged my stuff, and said, “Qahwa would be nice now, wouldn’t it?”

Sigur growled.  “You’re so dead, asshole.”  His eyes were narrowed, shooting green fire at me.  I smiled sweetly back at him, trying, and surely failing, to look innocent.

“What’s wrong?  I thought you liked a little pain with your pleasure.”

A shudder ran through Sigur; he turned his face away from me.  But I could see the heat rising in his cheeks.

Malik on my other side was still whimpering quietly, sitting hunched over and swaying back and forth.  Now he looked up and wheezed: “Damnit, Sigur!  Stop flirting and punish the bastard!  You can’t let him get away with this.”

“Forget it, brat,” I said.  “It’s not like I belong to him anymore.”

Sigur jerked his gaze back at me.  Gripping my shirt by the collar he yanked me so close our noses were almost touching.

“Don’t belong to me anymore?  Dream on, slave,” he yelled.

“You asshole sold me as a galley slave!” I yelled back.

He shoved me backwards.  I landed on the blankets, heavily.

“That’s what you thought?  By Bilari, you must have been miserable!”  He smirked at me, obviously liking that concept.

“Nothing could make me more miserable than staying with you!” I shot back.  Which wasn’t the truth, of course, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, slave,” Sigur said, enjoying this immensely, “I must disappoint you.  I merely let you row to pay for your own passage, after your dear uncle paid for ours.  You’re still my slave; and I’ll never let you go.  Deal with it.  As for your punishment, I’ll think of something.  Don’t worry.”

Oh, Luki.  Still his slave!  My new shiny world collapsed around my ears.  My feelings must have shown on my face, because Malik forgot about his pain and snickered.

“You’ve got it coming, scarhead,” he said, sneering at me.

“And you ain’t,” I growled right back at him, “your precious Sigur’s already tiring of you. You’ll be out on your ass soon enough.”

The hint of a shadow flickered over the young man’s face, before he replaced it with a sassy smile.  He crawled over to Sigur, settling on the other man’s lap.

“I’ll make you feel so good tonight, Sigur.  I’ll totally go down on that big cock of yours – take it all the way, lick and suck you for hours till you come deep down my throat.  And then you can watch, while scarhead here does the same for me.  You’ll love that, won’t you?”

Sigur was indeed looking rather intrigued with the brat’s suggestions, while I was waiting with bated breath.  Being Sigur’s slave was one thing, but ending up as the brat’s toy?  The thought made my insides crawl.  I didn’t dare look at Sigur.

Who lay back, pulling Malik with him, and said, ”You know little one, I really like that idea.  Afterwards, we can make him suck Cord, too, and have some more fun while watching them.”

“Yes!” Malik breathed.  “That sounds awesome!”

Yeah.  Awesome.  I’d have said the same if I was him.  As it was, I wanted to strangle the brat.

From outside, Cord’s voice suddenly interrupted that grueling conversation.

“I hate to break it to you, but it’s started snowing.”

Oh, shit.  We all knew what that meant: Winter had come early.  We were stuck.


	16. Chapter 16

TARIK:

I entangled myself from the blankets and stepped out of the tent.  It was snowing all right, heavy thick flakes, and the sky was leaden, promising much more of this.  Our chances of reaching Brygia were next to nothing now.  Crossing the Pirineus in winter was madness, pure and simple.

Malik was the first to find his voice.

“So let’s turn south and look for civilization!  I’ve had it with the rough living anyway.”

Typical.  Spoiled brat!

Sigur was already shaking his head.

“No.  I can’t wait that long.  We can try the Col de Xantjan, a bit to the west.  I’ve heard it’s possible.”

Yeah.  I’d heard that, too.  But I’d heard other things as well.

“It’s s dangerous,” I said.  “The chances are fifty-fifty, at most.  And we’d have to leave the horses behind.”

“Scared?” Sigur quipped, raising an arrogant eyebrow.

“I’m not scared!” I said indignantly.  “Okay then, if you’re sure—“

“I am,” he said.  “And I wouldn’t have asked you, anyway, slave.”

He turned to look at the other two.  Malik was pouting silently.  Cord seemed indifferent.  He glanced from Sigur to me and back, evaluating things, and finally said, “Okay.  I’m in.”

And that was that.  We had a hurried breakfast, loaded everything on the horses and rode on, now turning northwest.  Malik had the pack horse, while I rode alternately with Sigur and Cord.  I was feeling much better, and didn’t need anyone holding me upright anymore.  And that was good; if I wanted to survive this, I needed to be at full strength.

“Why did you agree?” I asked Cord, when I was riding with him.

He was silent for a while before he spoke.

“For one, I’m not eager to travel alone.  I lost most of my provisions on the ship, and I’m broke.  Secondly, I still want to paint you, and since you’re stuck with him—“ he jerked his head in Sigur’s direction “—I’m kind of stuck, too.”

“Not that I want to chase you off,” I said, “but I won’t let you paint me, ever.  And Sigur would never agree, anyway.  Probably’d laugh his ass of if you asked him.”

Cord shrugged.  “So we won’t ask him.”  He leaned a little sideways so he could look into my face.  “Listen, Tarik.  If you ever tire of that little charade you two have going on there, just tell me.  Together we can take him easily.  And that little boytoy of his won’t be much use in a fight.”  Cord winked at me, smiling.

I hesitated.  It sounded so easy, so reasonable when he put it like that.

“No, not yet,” I said in the end.

Cord sighed.  “Okay.  It’s your call.”

I gave him a short peck on the cheek.  “Thank you, though.  I feel a lot better, knowing you’re on my side.”

 

It kept snowing the whole day.  When it grew dark and we made camp, we had to clear lots of snow away for a place to put our tent.  We had collected wood when there were still enough of those crippled fir trees, so we could light a small fire.  Sigur had me baking simple bread on a flat stone and we all drank tea from leaves he had gathered on the way.  It tasted quite good, actually.  Being a healer, he knew more about plants than the rest of us.

Afterwards the four of us snuggled close together, using all the blankets that we had.  Malik and I got the best places in the middle, Cord settling behind me and Sigur behind the brat.  It was so cold that for once Malik didn’t even bitch about having to touch me.

It was comfortable, his smaller frame fit perfectly against my body.  At my back, Cord was a warm, lean presence, his hard-on pressing against my ass crack the last thing I was conscious of, before I fell asleep, and the first, when I awoke to a grey and cold morning.

Sigur and Malik seemed to be still sleeping, and I felt horny for the first time after my sickness, so I nudged Cord awake.

“Hey, want to jerk off together?” I suggested, remembering the many times we’d done that back on the ship.

“How ‘bout we suck each other?” Cord proposed, and of course I agreed.  That was even better!

Cord turned around to get into position.  We threw each other matching anticipatory grins and went down on each other.  I took him as deep as I could manage comfortably, and he sucked me in quite greedily, too.  I would have yelled – it was so amazing – if my mouth hadn’t been occupied otherwise.  As it was I just kept sucking on Cord’s girth, pressing my tongue against its underside, which he seemed to love, and only when I was totally out of breath I pulled off, keeping the suction as strong as I could.  A deep breath, and I was down on him again.

I was barely conscious of what Cord was doing to me, I only knew that I was swept along helplessly and shooting my come down his eager throat in no time at all.  Cord followed suit shortly afterward.  I swallowed it all as well as I could – there was a lot of come – and collapsed onto our heap of blankets, a sated, worn-out, happy mess.

To be shaken up by a round of lazy applause from Malik and Sigur.  I blushed, but Cord pulled me into his arms and said, “Don’t mind them; they’re just jealous.”

I didn’t believe that for one second.  Sure, Sigur’s eyes werenarrowed at me, and there was something else lurking under his expression of disdain.  I couldn’t really indentify it.  If it had been anybody else but him, I might even have agreed with Cord.  But with Sigur, no.  It just wasn’t possible.

We had a short cold breakfast.  After distributing our stuff between us and setting the horses free we set out on foot for the most strenuous and dangerous part of our journey.  It became colder and colder and the snow kept falling as we plodded on through a quiet, white world.

Sigur and Cord, the strongest of us, took turns walking ahead, clearing the tread, while the rest of us walked in their footsteps.  It was hard going.  We were on a high plain with no shelter whatsoever, and sometimes there were gusts of wind that whipped us along cruelly.  We all had scarves wrapped around our heads, but my skin and my eyes were burning.

And I was so tired!  Putting one foot in front of the other was becoming a superhuman effort for me.  Thankfully, Malik didn’t fare much better.  It may sound stupid, but I was glad when he was the first one to demand a rest, and not I.  Sigur nodded his assent and I collapsed where I stood, not caring that I was sitting with my ass in the snow.  I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes.

Cord made me drink a few sips of water and fed me a piece of stale bread, and then we marched on.  My vision grew dim after a while.  At some point I even thought I saw Skadi, waving her scythe at me, offering to take me away from this white-cold hell.  But somebody grabbed my arm and dragged me onward.  And so I kept walking.

The next time I really became aware of my surroundings I found myself sitting in the tent in front of a small fire.  Sigur was crouched next to it, making some kind of stew from pieces of dried meat, grouts and weird-looking roots.  It smelled surprisingly good, and my stomach gave a growl of appreciation.  Sigur looked up and threw me a short smile, and for once there were neither hate nor any kind of malevolence in it.

“We’re close to the mountain pass,” he explained after we’d eaten.  “We’ll reach it tomorrow and from then on it’ll only be downhill.  If we keep this pace we can be in Baiona in three days’ time.”

“Three more days of this and I’ll be dead,” Malik complained, letting himself fall back onto the blankets exhaustedly.

I thought something similar.  I just wanted to lie down and digest and never see a snowflake again in my life.

 

The next day was much the same.  Walking became a little bit easier after we had crossed the pass, and sometime during the day the snowfall stopped.  Just before it became too dark to walk on we reached a mountain shelter, a roughly timbered construction, but it had four walls and a roof, and even a fireplace with a supply of dried wood.

We lit the fire and spread our soggy clothes in front of it, wrapping ourselves up in blankets, which were held in place by our belts, so that our upper bodies were naked.  It really was a sight for sore eyes.

Sigur was cooking again, boiling flat hard yellowish squares in salt water.  I had never seen anything like it.  He drained them and added oil, garlic and red pepper.  The smell made my mouth water.

“I bought that in Genoa.  It’s called pasta,” he explained when I asked.  “They’re an Etruscan invention, made from a special kind of wheat.”

I had never heard of Etruscans, but, by Luki, their food was heavenly.  The best thing I had ever tasted, better even than my mother’s stockfish stew.  Not that I’d ever tell her that.  I’m not that suicidal.

Later Malik and Cord went outside to collect more snow to melt for the next day.  I did the dishes in the water Sigur had cooked the pasta in and he came and wiped them dry.  I cleared my throat.

“You’re a good cook,” I said.  It came out rather awkwardly.  Insulting him was a lot easier.  He narrowed his bluegreen eyes at me, probably expecting me to follow that up with some kind of derogatory remark – cooking was generally regarded a woman’s task.

“Are you making fun of me?” he bit out, when I stayed silent.

I shrugged.  “Just saying thank you for a good meal, nothing else.”

He scowled, clearly not believing me.

I realized one thing then.  Sigur wasn’t as self-assured as he always acted.  He had doubts about himself, more than he liked to let on.  I took a step toward him, and grabbed both of his arms firmly, when he tried to back away from me.  He froze on the spot.

“I’m not making fun of you,” I said, my face inches away from his.  He wouldn’t even meet my gaze, but looked down instead.  I shook him a bit, and now he gasped and his eyes were shooting flashes of blue lightning at me.

“Being a good cook is no weakness,” I insisted.  “I love to eat well, so it’s a good thing in my book.  Same goes for other things.  Whatever you might enjoy on the furs, there’s no shame in any of it.  Only if you’re too much of a coward to ‘fess up to what you want.”

He fought me then, but his heart wasn’t in it and I held on, pushing him backwards until his back hit the wooden wall.  He closed his eyes, and, with a soft exhale, surrendered for the moment.  I buried a hand in his flaxen hair, pulling his head back none too gently, in a way I suspected he’d like, to get his mouth ready for mine.

“Well?” I asked, our lips nearly touching, feeling like we were on the brink of something.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he said, finally, and I kissed him then, gently at first, but then more and more intense, conquering his mouth, conquering him, licking and biting, tasting his desire and his submission.  His erection was a solid, burning thing against my thigh, pressing into me, and when my other hand latched onto his nipple, twisting it cruelly, he screamed out and shuddered and jerked against me, and I felt the hot moistness of his come seeping through the blankets we wore.

I held him through it, stroking his hair and his face, which was turned away from me now.  “Enjoying these games doesn’t make you less of a man,” I said.  “As well as loving to do this to you doesn’t make me a monster.”

“I’d rather be a monster than considered weak,” he whispered, still looking away.

“We are what we are, Sigur.  It’s no use trying to be anything else.  Who cares what other people think?”

Just in that moment the door opened and Malik and Cord were back.  Sigur pulled away from me and charged outside.  I let him go.  I was still half-hard under that blanket, but I didn’t care much.  I cleaned my teeth with a twig, went outside for a piss, and lay down to sleep.  Malik and Cord came to join me.  Not long after we had doused the lantern, Sigur returned, ice-cold and frozen through as he settled down behind me.

Wordlessly I turned around, facing him, and gathered him into my arms.  I fell asleep before his shivering even had ebbed.


	17. Chapter 17

TARIK:

The next morning I woke up at dawn.  A weak, yellowish light came in through the skin that covered the hut’s one, small window.  Sigur was asleep, still lying in my arms, but he stirred when I tried to untangle my limbs from his.  He stretched his lean, muscled body with a soft moan.  His greenblue eyes opened slowly at first, but then he obviously remembered where he was, and with whom, and they came to rest on my face, assessing me warily.  He seemed ill at ease, but he didn’t move away.

I smiled at him, aware that my smiles these days were scary things.  His expression remained guarded, the only sign of his nervousness his tongue wetting his lips repeatedly.  Gods.  I couldn’t help but look on hungrily.  I hadn’t come last night, after all.

When I nodded toward my morning wood he involuntarily followed the direction of my glance.  His eyes became dark and his breathing sped up in anticipation.  He knew what I wanted, and he wanted to give it to me.

I buried one hand in his long blond hair and guided him down, toward where his mouth needed to go.  He went easily, without the slightest resistance; and, just like I’d seen him do to Malik, took me down to the root in one go.  He did it so slowly I practically felt his throat opening up for me, stretching to accommodate my girth.

His mouth was an amazing place to be, so hot, moist and tight.  I’d had blowjobs before, traded among friends, like Cord and I had done last night, but nothing had ever felt like this.  My eyes were riveted on the picture of his lips, stretched around my cock, on his half-closed eyes, that, just for a second, flicked up to meet mine.

I let him keep me there for a few moments, giving us both time to adjust.  Then I took over, holding is head in place, and began fucking his mouth with short, hard jabs.  Every once in a while he kind of hummed around my hard-on and the vibrations felt awesome.  Again and again, his throat constricted around me, either from trying to swallow down the precome I was probably leaking by then, or already fighting for air.  Or maybe both.

I let him up to take a few deep wheezing breaths before pulling him back down, using my grip on his hair as leverage as I bucked up into his mouth.  I saw that his eyes were tearing up from the force of the friction, and wondered if I was being too rough.  But then I noticed that he was jacking himself furiously in the rhythm of my thrusts, and my doubts dissipated.  Sigur was enjoying this as much as I did.

In the end, we came almost simultaneously.  Sigur pulled back some, catching my come in his mouth before swallowing it down.  He had quite a hard time getting all of it while shaking in the throes of ecstasy himself, but he managed.

“Lovely,” I said, stroking his luscious hair in appreciation.  He smiled for just a second, before a shudder ran through him and he shook himself, like a dog coming in from the rain.  His face began to assume that closed-off expression which I was beginning to hate.

Sitting up I pulled him toward me and I kissed him deeply, enjoying the heavy taste of my come on his tongue.  His mouth opened up for me willingly enough, but he didn’t really reciprocate, and when I let him go, he grabbed his blanket and scrambled up and outside as if Luki’s hounds of hell were on his heels.

Behind me, Cord sat up, sleepy-eyed, his dark-curly hair tousled.

“He needs some time to deal with things,” he murmured.

“Probably,” I agreed.  “It must be hard when you realize that the guy you hate can give you what you really want.”

“Sigur doesn’t hate you, Tarik.”

I snorted.  “Haven’t I told you how he treated me?  The things he did to me?  If that isn’t hate, then what is?”

“Oh, Tarik, come on!  That’s water under the bridge, and he had his reasons for acting like he did, right?”

“Well, yes.  Sure.  Still, I don’t see—“

“No, let me finish this,” Cord interrupted.  “You didn’t see how Sigur behaved when you were sick with that bloody flux.  He helped me get you off that ship of death, helped clean you up, brewed potions for you when you were shitting and spitting blood, close to death.  He never slept a wink during those first days when your life was on knife’s edge and we thought you would die at any moment.”

Cord fell silent, looking at me expectantly.

“Uh,” I stammered, completely thrown by what he had just told me.

“Yeah,” Malik chimed in.  “Even when I warned him to stay away from you, because that shit was catching as all hell, he wouldn’t listen, the idiot.  Risked his life to save your sorry ass, that’s what he did.”

“But—“  I shook my head, trying - and failing - to digest these news.

“But he hates me,” I finally repeated weakly.

Malik slapped a hand on his forehead, rolling his black eyes.

“You’re such a moron, scarhead,” he proclaimed.

“I—I’ll think it over?” I offered.

“You do that, Tarik,” Cord said encouragingly, failing to hide a grin.

 

SIGUR:

There I was, sitting in the snow half-naked for the second time in the last few hours.  I knew I had to go back in soon.  For one, it was freezing.  Secondly, I didn’t trust any of them to brew a decent qahwa or tea.  And third, I was no coward.  Even if I didn’t really trust Tarik not to lord this over me – after all, he’d done it before – I did trust myself enough to know I could hold my own in whatever confrontation might ensue.

I got up and walked back.  There was no confrontation, nothing so much as a slanted glance even.  Everyone was already dressed and busy packing up.  Malik had made qahwa, though, and I resigned myself to adding lots of sugar, because usually the brat’s brew turned out strong enough to wake the dead.  Breakfast was a short, silent affair, and then it was time to leave.

When we were walking on downward the path, I couldn’t help turning back to cast a last glance at the hut.  It stood there, weather-beaten and unassuming, dark against the grey sky.  With an inward sigh I turned back around, keeping my eyes firmly to where I was going.

 

Another two days later we were a ragged, tired group as we reached the outskirts of Baiona.  We headed for the first decent looking inn and rented their largest room, before we went to find the nearest public baths.  It was nice to finally be clean again after weeks of grime.  And it was a good opportunity to covertly ogle Tarik.  To tell the truth, I could barely keep my eyes off him.

How could someone who was born so far in the north be so dark?  His hair and eyes were black as coal, his skin naturally olive, not just tanned like mine.  And his face, so sinister with that scar, always looking to be scowling.  It made reading him hard.

He hadn’t really been evading me these last two days, but he seemed to respect that I needed some space.  And he didn’t try even once to boss me around the way he did when we shared the furs.  Nor did he make any lewd or derogatory comments in that regard.  It went a long way to reassure me.

Involuntarily, I looked at him again.  He was glistening wet, his long, dark hair clinging to his muscled back.  I was surprised to realize that I knew his body quite well, was acquainted with all those bigger and smaller scars that it wore.  I had cleaned it up often enough when he was sick.  Seeing it now, though, had a totally different effect on me.  Adjusting the towel over my lap, I let my eyes wander some more, from his defined pecs over his shoulders, down along his arms…

He had the most amazing hands, so strong and capable.  Hands that knew how to hold me in place just right.  Just the way I needed it.  I swallowed.  All of a sudden he looked up and our gazes met.  It was as if he’d just read my thoughts, because he threw me a wink and smiled that scary smile of his.  A shiver ran down my spine and my cock twitched.  Yeah.  He had me all right.  And gods, I needed a cold shower right now, before I totally disgraced myself and jumped his bones right there in the public baths.

 

TARIK:

It was so damn hot in that steam bath!  And that wasn’t all the doing of the steam, if you get my drift.  The glances Sigur kept slanting at me did their own to add to the heavy atmosphere.  So when he rose to return to the shower room I followed him determinedly, figuring the time to hesitate was through.  From behind I grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face me.

“Mm, Sigur,” I drawled, maybe a bit too smugly, “want to tell me something?”

His eyes narrowed to slits.  Somehow my body had come to interpret that as foreplay, though, and it didn’t have the desired effect on me.  Quite the other way round, in fact.

“Yeah, Tarik, I do.  I really need to tell you--“ he smiled sweetly—“that you’re way too full of yourself right now!”

Oh.  A challenge.  Or an invitation, rather.  Just like that, I felt my cock stir in interest.  By Luki, Sigur got me going faster than anyone else did.

“I know you want me,” I said, pressing him against the wall with my whole body.

He was breathing faster, too, his eyes becoming unfocused.  He didn’t reply, not with words, but his body’s reaction didn’t leave any room for doubt.  Sigur was just as turned on as I was.

“I know what you need,” I murmured, jabbing my hard-on against his, “And I’m going to give it to you!”

He shuddered and a moan escaped his lips.  Oh, he was so mine!

“Attention!” a high voice yelled from behind, and in the next moment Sigur and I were hit by a gush of ice-cold water.  We jumped apart like scalded cats, yowling even.

Cord and Malik stood there, laughing their asses off, empty buckets still in their hands.

“Cooling down is the most important part,” Cord proclaimed.  “Don’t want your humor getting too hot, now, do you?”

Sigur’s and my laughter wasn’t quite sincere as it joined theirs.  There would be some kind of revenge, later.  Not now.  The cold water had done its work.  Suddenly I was feeling wiped again, and just wanted to treat myself to pig-roast and mead and then go to bed and sleep two days straight.

And that was what we did.

 

On the third day Sigur and Cord went out to try and get horses for us, while Malik and I headed to the market for provisions.  Down here in Baiona by the sea the climate was a lot milder than it had been in the mountains.  But the air already had that nip to it that proclaimed winter wouldn’t be long in coming.  Harvest was over, and the offer on the market bountiful.  There were fruits and vegetables I’d never seen before, some in very strange shapes.  Malik, spoiled boytoy that he was, knew them all, of course.  He told me that the strangest-looking one was called an artichoke, and that you actually couldn’t eat most of it.  Well, a fitting name then, I thought.

We didn’t buy any of those, as they would be a total waste of space.  Instead I went for dried lentils, rice, flour for bread, the small, sour apples that kept well, onions and all kinds of dried fruits.  I even found a merchant who sold pasta.  At last I went to a booth that offered all kinds of potions and bought a small amphora of Banshee Blood, a very strong blue liqueur I had heard Uncle Ragen once talk about.

 

On our way back to the inn we picked up some pasties for lunch.  Sigur and Cord weren’t back yet, so we started packing our stuff together.  We wanted to set out early the next day.

Suddenly I heard heavy steps in the corridor.  The door to our room flew open and there was Cord, panting heavily, looking quite alarmed.

“Sigur has been taken!” he panted, breathlessly.  “By a group of men.  Could have been slavers!”

I dropped the backpack I’d held in my hands.  “Where?” I asked.

“At the jeweler’s store, behind the basilica.  Hurry, we may still get them!”

I took my sword, thanking the gods that Sigur had kept it for me, and followed Cord outside.  Turning back I yelled at Malik, “You stay here!”

“Like hell I will,” he yelled back, of course, and came after us.

We sped outside on the street and round the corner.  People’s eyes followed us as we dashed across the market square and toward the town’s Jewish quarter.  In front of a small store the crowd was already dissipating.  I charged into their middle, searching frantically for that white blond head of Sigur’s.  He was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any hint of the men who had taken him.  I grabbed a small boy, wanting to ask him where they had gone, but he just screamed when he saw my face, tore away from me and fled.

Suddenly I noticed a gleam in the dust at my feet.  I knelt down and retrieved the object that lay there half-buried.  I recognized it immediately.  Sigur’s dagger.  The one with which he’d marked me.  The one with which he’d cut that twine around my balls.  My hand clenched around its handle, I looked at Cord and Malik.  They wore matching expressions of worry on their faces.  Like I probably did, too.

“We’ll find him,” I said.  “We’ll get him back.”

But we had to hurry.  If he’d been taken by slavers, like Cord suspected, we were already running out of time.


	18. Chapter 18

TARIK:

I turned toward Cord.  “Okay, now tell me exactly what happened!”

He nodded.  “We had already bought the horses, and brought them back to the stable at the inn.  Then we went back here.  Sigur wanted to buy something in that shop, and I went in search of a painter that my teacher in Genoa had mentioned.  I found his house, but nobody was there, so I went back to the jeweler’s store.  The skirmish was already in full swing when I got here.”

“So who took him?  Did you see the attackers?”

“No.  There were too many people between us.  I only heard them shout something like ‘let’s take him’ and the word ‘slave’.”

That was bad news.  We were only three, and you couldn’t really count Malik.  How would we fight a whole group of men?  The chances weren’t good.  But we had to try.  I wanted my blond bastard back.

“So,” I said, “where do we look first?”

“The slave pens,” said Malik.  He would know.

“Yeah.  And maybe the harbor,” suggested Cord.

 

We tried the slave pens first.  To hasten things we split up, Cord and Malik searching the eastern part of the market, and I the western.

By Bilari’s guts, I’ve never seen so many miserable wretches.  Men, women, children of all ages, their faces either terrified or hopeless.  It was hard, looking at them.  I knew it could have been me in their place if Sigur had really sold me.  Which he hadn’t done.  He really could have been more of a bastard.  In hindsight, he hadn’t treated me that badly.

Damn, what was this?  No sooner than he was in a bit of trouble I was here, getting all maudlin and teary-eyed?  I guess I really had it bad.  I shook myself out of that spell and continued searching.

But he wasn’t there, so I made my way back to the eastern part to meet Cord and Malik.  I found them next to the whipping post, where there was already a queue of hapless slaves waiting for their turn to be punished.

The one who was currently under the whip was hanging from his bound wrists, his body twitching and swaying under the lashes.  There was no sound coming from him, and judging by the way his back looked, all flayed open, I’d have said he was already dead, or would be soon.

Just then he was cut down and thrown into the mud like so much garbage.  Nobody even threw him a second glance.  Cord made a move toward him, but Malik held him back.  It was hard to say with his dark coloring, but the boy seemed green in the face, like he was about to puke.

“No, don’t,” he said, his voice imploring.  “That man’s dead.  Let’s not go there.”

Cord pulled away from Malik’s grip.  I followed him and we knelt beside the slave.  Cord checked his neck.

“He’s still alive,” he said after a while.

“Not for long,” I said, gesturing at the man’s back.  It was so mangled everywhere, I thought I even could see the white of bones in the bloody mess.  It made me want to vomit on the spot.

“I still have the bag of coins Sigur gave me this morning,” said Cord.  “I could have him carried to our room and send Malik for a healer.”

I didn’t really like it, not at this moment.  There wasn’t any time to spare; Sigur had to come first.  The slave was beyond saving anyway.  But--  Oh, Morian, I couldn’t let him die in the dirt like this.  I couldn’t.  Malik saw me hesitate and took my hand.

“No,” he pleaded almost frantically, “please, Tarik, let’s get Sigur, forget about this, it’s useless, and I—I can’t—“

He choked and lost his breakfast right there on the slave market.

“He must have seen someone die like this before,” Cord muttered.  “Maybe even someone close to him.”

That thought shocked me to the core.  I had never concerned myself overly much with Malik’s history.  Instead I had called him a spoiled brat and a boy toy, and rarely stopped to think what had made him turn out that way.  And what a jerk I’d been to him!

I crouched at his side and lay an arm around his trembling shoulders, steadying him.

“Listen, Malik.  We’ll try and save this man.  You don’t have to help, or even look at him.  But maybe you can go and get a healer and bring him to the inn?  I’ll find Sigur.  I’ll do everything I can, I promise!”

Malik’s face was buried in his hands, but he nodded.  I helped him stand up.

“Okay,” I said to Cord, finally wrenching my eyes away from the horrible picture.  “We’re going to do it.  Come back to meet me as soon as the healer’s there.  I’m heading over to the harbor now.”

 

It was only a short walk from the slave pens to the harbor.  The place was pretty much deserted.  Too late in the year for merchants, and the fishers must have been back for hours; it was well past noontime.  A few of them were still busy on their boats, mending nets or caulking leaks.

In a small booth an older woman was frying and selling fish.  I went to her, bought a fish and asked if she had noticed a captive with white blond hair, probably in the hands of slavers.  She said ‘no’, but I saw her gaze flick over to a seedy-looking inn across the place.  I pushed a few coins across the booth’s counter.  She smiled slyly, showing crooked, black teeth.

“I might have seen a man like you described,” she croaked.

“Well, and?  Tell me more!” I prompted her.

She cast a pointed look my pockets.  I gave her another coin.

“He was bound.  Looked beaten-up.  Was six men that had him.  Mean, big bastards the lot of them.  They’re still in there.”  She waved her hand toward the inn.

I took a relieved breath, glad that Sigur was still within my reach.  The bad thing was, there was no way I could fight six men on my own, so I had to wait for Cord to come back.  I positioned myself at the entrance of a narrow alleyway where I would be well hidden, and from where I had direct view on the inn’s front door.  Leaning back against a wall, I took a tentative bite of the fish I’d bought.  Yuck.  I spit it out and threw the rest away.  Within moments a small, dark shape dashed out of the shadows, grabbed the fish and was gone, before I had so much as blinked.  Baiona was a wealthy town, but like everywhere else, the quarter behind the harbor was a seedy one.

 

Cord arrived about half an hour later.  I gave a soft whistle and waved him over.

“Sigur’s in that inn,” I explained.  “The fish wife says there are six men with him.”

Cord cursed heavily.  “Six?  Hm.  It’s possible, but we’ll need a bit of luck.  Maybe trick them somehow.  Or just buy him off them.  That way nobody gets hurt.”

“We could go in and take a look at first to check things out,” I proposed.

“Yeah, okay.  Let’s do that.”

We ambled over to the inn.  I tried to appear inconspicuous, but inside I was humming with tension.  Cord, however, seemed like he was taking a lazy stroll just for fun, the cool bastard.  We pushed the heavy door open and walked in.  Strangely, the guest room was completely deserted.  There was the faint murmur of voices, coming in through a doorway, though.  Everybody seemed to be somewhere in the back.

I took a quick survey of the room.  The inn looked much better on the inside.  Lots of polished wood, the smell of beeswax and candles heavy in the air.  There was another, oddly familiar smell, which I couldn’t quite place at first.  Instinctively, I grabbed Cord’s arm.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” I said.  “But something’s strange.”

I drew another deep breath.  I smelled fish, and smoke and – cloves?  Bay leaf?  Yes, and leek and garlic.  Oh, hell.  Slowly it dawned on me from where I knew that special blend of flavors.  From back home.  Oh Luki.  It smelled exactly like--  No.  How could that be?

“Put your sword away,” I told Cord, experiencing relief and a sinking feeling at the same time.  Biting my lips I walked through the doorway and the adjacent corridor that had a half-open door at its end.  Slowly I sneaked closer and peered through.

It was a kitchen, like I’d thought.  To the left, my mother was standing at the fire-place, stirring a huge pot of what had to be her stew.  At the table I saw Uncle Ragen, Bolgar, Rikk and three of their men, big tankards of Ale in front of them.  To the right, next to a wood pile, Sigur was lying, gagged and trussed up like a pig, looking beaten-up and angry, but otherwise whole.  Thank the gods.  I knocked and walked in, Cord following on my heels.

At our entry all hell broke loose, as Bolgar and Ragen jumped up, uttering huge bellows of delight, while my mother rushed at me and hugged me, crying and scolding and whacking me over the head, all at the same time.  Somewhere in the ruckus I even thought I heard a dog yipping.

“You stupid, stupid boy!” my mother sniffed finally, giving me a last knock to the ear.  “Do you ever stop to think what you are doing to me?!  Letting that bastard drag you around all over the world?  Letting him sell you as a galley slave?  Huh?  Did I raise you to be that silly?”

“Ouch, stop that!” I said.  “Damn, Mom, it wasn’t like that!  He didn’t sell me!  And how do you actually know about that?”

“Do you think your uncle would let you get away with this?  Of course he took his men and followed you!  And sent me a letter, making me come all the way from Strindsbakken!  Idiot boy!”

She hugged me again after that outburst.  Damn, but my mother is strong.  Having to fend for your family all on your own does that, I guess.

When she let go of me there were tears in her eyes.  She pulled me toward the table and waved at Cord over to my side.

“Come, you two.  Sit down.  Eat something.”

My mother’s stew was so much better than that fried fish I had earlier.  Still better, though, was the picture of Sigur glaring at me from the floor.  I didn’t want him to worry, so I smirked a bit at him and threw him a covert wink.  Predictably his eyes narrowed to green slits.  Damn, but I loved him looking at me like that.  That gaze of his went straight down to my groin.  Suddenly a bit uncomfortable, I shifted on my chair and it was his time to smirk.

Cord finally pushed his empty bowl away.  “I’m going back to the inn,” he said to me, “someone’s got to take care of things.  You stay here with your folks.”  I nodded my assent.

Spirits were flying high at our table, mead was passed around and tales exchanged of what had happened.

“We were so worried when we found the ‘Seawitch’ at anchor, full of dead bodies,” said Ragen, suddenly quiet.  “We thought you were among them, but one of the wretches told us the four of you had escaped.  How the hell did you get here?  Not by sea, we’ve been watching the harbor closely.  Luckily we know the woman who owns this inn.  She’s a sister of Diandra.”

Diandra?  Oh, right, the woman in Aquilegia.  The one who owned the famous “Dollhouse”.

“Over land,” I explained.  “We had horses at first, but we had to set them free when we made for the Col de Xantjan.”

“You took the Xantjan?  At this time of year?  Are you crazy?”

Ragen let his head drop to the table, heavily.  Bolgar just rolled his eyes.  I ducked my head, thus narrowly escaping another whack of my mother’s.  That’s what you get for doing heroic deeds.

A short while later Cord and Malik were back, bringing the healer and the badly injured slave with them.  When Malik saw Rikk, he literally flew into his arms.  I think Rikk was the closest thing to a friend he had.

A servant helped Cord carry the injured slave to a room upstairs.  The healer, an older, bald man, followed them with heavy steps.  It was probably useless, and the slave would die anyway, but maybe the healer could give him something to dull the terrible pain he had to be in.

 

When I was done eating, my head pleasantly fuzzy from the mead, I finally stood up and walked over to Sigur.  I crouched down to cut him loose.

He hissed, when his bindings fell.  He’d been bound for quite a while, and the feeling of needles and pins had to be painful.  I helped him up and when he stood, I got rid of the gag, too.

He grimaced.  There were a few pressure marks on his face, some abrasions, but nothing too bad.

“For some reason they’ve gone easy on you,” I remarked.

“That’s probably because they know you,” he shot back.  He stemmed his fists in his waist.  “Why did you keep me lying here, tied up like that, huh?  Why didn’t you free me sooner?”

“Because you’re hot like that,” I said, yanking his arms behind his back and pulling him against me.  “Because being tied up really suits you, Sigur.”

“You’re such a bastard,” he muttered, grinding his hips against me despite his words.

There was a sudden smack then, followed by a surprised “Ouch!” from Sigur.

“No getting it on in the kitchen,” my mother scolded, the big wooden spoon still raised in her hand.

Grinning, I turned Sigur around to face my family.

“You’ve got to stop hurting my lover,” I declared.  “I’d rather do that myself!”

Sigur blushed furiously at the guffaws and general uproar that my words provoked.  My mother took a long critical look at him.  “He’s too old for you.  And he’s scarred.”  She pointed at his forehead, where the pale ‘T’ was clearly visible.

Sigur tensed, about to protest: After all it had been me who had put it there.  And really, I was a lot more scarred than he was.  But I jabbed him with my elbow and he remained silent.  I knew my mother.

“Relax,” I muttered, “if she really minded, you’d be already dead.”

My mother nodded.  “That’s right.  But be warned: I’m only reserving my final judgment for later.  Now, boy, how about you sit down and eat some of that stew?”

“Ah, yes.  Thank you,” Sigur replied meekly.

I think at this point he’d have eaten goat’s gonads if she’d served them.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” I said, after he’d downed a few spoonfuls.

“No, I like it; it tastes great,” he said, adding quietly, “Now I know where you get your commandeering tone from.”

I grinned.  When he’d finished his second helping I took his hand and pulled him up with me.

“We need a room,” I said.  “For two.”

Ragen and Bolgar threw disapproving glares at us.  Rikk, however, with a satisfied little smile, jumped up immediately.

“Good for you, guys!  I’ll be happy to help you!”

He dropped the little scruffy dog he’d been holding into Bolgar’s lap.  “Here, Fluffy, stay put!”  Immediately the dog rolled over, presenting his belly for Bolgar to rub.  If our folks back home had seen that, they’d probably have cracked up.  It was a bit surreal.

 

Rikk led us upstairs.  The first room to the left was the one where Cord and the healer were still busy trying to save the slave’s live.  I wanted to go in and take a look, but Rikk stopped me, saying we’d only be in the way.

“Let me,” said Sigur, “maybe I’ll be able to help.”

Oh, right.  In the chaos I’d completely forgotten that he was a healer, too.  Rikk and I entered the adjacent room and got it ready, spreading blankets and pillows and clean sheets.  Rikk fetched hot water from the kitchen and went down to join the others again.  I washed myself thoroughly, already a bit jittery with anticipation.

Truth be told, I didn’t have an awful lot of experience, if you didn’t count the things I’d done with Cord.  Apart from that, I’d had only one lover in my life, Jonn.  I’d been 14 then and he three years older, and we hadn’t really done much.  More like experimented.  But Jonn was long dead, killed in the same expedition as my father.  I hadn’t been ready to take up with anybody for a long while after their deaths.  And then there’d been that Scarsian battle-axe that had smashed my face.  I’d been so sure that nobody could desire me after that, ugly bitch that I was, I hadn’t even tried to find someone.

Now, though, I had Sigur.  Who was a lot more experienced than me.  Still, there was no way I’d let him do the leading.  Between the sheets I needed to be the master.  That’s just how I am.  Oh, Skadi!  Don’t let me fuck this up!

Just then the door opened and Sigur entered, his face drawn.

“Will he make it?” I asked.

He shrugged, his expression somber.  “It’s possible.  If we manage to keep the wounds clean and if he makes it through the night, then, maybe, yes.”

He used the rest of the warm water to wash up and stepped up to the bed.

With a sigh he settled right next to me, putting his head on my shoulder and draping one long, lean leg over mine.  His hair fanned out loosely across my neck and shoulders.

“You always smell so nice,” I said after a while.  “What is it?”

“Lemongrass soap,” he murmured against my chest, “bought it in Italy, before we met again.”

“You bought some good things there,” I said, remembering the pasta.

“Glad you approve.”  He leaned up to nuzzle my neck.  Gods.  I’d been half-hard before.  Now a shiver ran down my spine and just like that I was aching for him.

“Sigur,” I moaned, “damn, if I don’t get to fuck you, like, right now, I might combust on the spot!”

He gave me an intent look.  “You can have me, Tarik.  I’m yours to fuck, you know?  But you’ll have to go slow, I’ve never been taken before.”

“Well, that fits perfectly,” I replied, one hand playing with his lovely hair, “because I have never taken anybody before.  But just so you know, Blondie, I’ll be the one to set the pace, and if I feel like giving it to you hard, you’re gonna lie there and take it!”

He moaned, his sea green eyes turning darker.

“Gods, Tarik.  You say the sweetest things,” he murmured, trying for levity, but failing utterly.

His full-body flush and his rock-hard cock told me enough.

Not able to wait any longer, I reached for him and wrestled him around so that he was lying on his belly.

“On your knees, Sigur,” I commanded.  “I want to see that little virgin hole of yours!”

Groaning, he complied.  I took a good look, while he was kneeling there, trembling with anticipation.

Oh, Morian.  It looked tiny!  Just a small, furled muscle, already twitching under my gaze.  My glance shifted to my cock that was bobbing in front of me in the rhythm of my heartbeat.  I couldn’t imagine how it was ever going to fit in there without tearing him to pieces.

His ass cheeks were pale and firm, covered in soft golden fuzz.  Gently, I put my hands on them, and pulled them apart.  His hole winked open just the tiniest bit.

“Sigur,” I moaned, “I can’t!  I’m never going to fit in there!”

He gave a short laugh.  It sounded hoarse and a bit desperate.

Spreading his legs further and pushing his glorious ass back at me, he said, “It’s a muscle.  It will stretch.  Don’t you dare chicken out now!”

Chicken out?  Me?

“Are you calling me a coward?” I asked mildly.

“If it helps things along,” he growled, “then, yes, I am!”  His head was turned toward me, the challenge clear in his eyes.

“You’re getting awfully cocky there,” I bit out.

“So?” he smirked.  “You gonna do something about it?”

“Damn right I am,” I declared and proceeded to give him five, six good swats on his ass, making him buck and even cry out with the last one.

“Gods, Tarik, yes!  Fuck, yeah!  Hurts!”

“It’s supposed to.”  I gave him a few more, turning his ass uniformly a pale red.  Then I leaned over to lick and nibble at his heated flesh, until he was twisting and gasping under my ministrations.  When my tongue finally touched his small opening he screamed without restraint, not caring that the whole inn, including my mother, could probably hear him.

I worked him gently with my tongue, feeling his muscle slowly relax.  Only then did I coat a finger with oil and breached him for the first time.  He clenched up around me immediately.  I waited a moment before pressing in further.  He was hot inside, his soft, squishy walls almost sucking me in.  Carefully I started fucking him with my finger.

“Okay?” I asked.

“S’good,” he said, sounding breathless, “gimme more.”

He took two fingers easily, but I could tell three were quite a stretch for him.

“Burns,” he hissed, his hole clamming up hard.  Accompanied by his moans and groans, I slowly pushed in further, as deep as my fingers would go.  I held them there, twisting and turning them around.  At one point I hit a spongy knot inside of him and he cried out.

“Yes!  Right there, Tarik.  Do that again!”

“I’ll do better,” I said, withdrawing my fingers.

He knew what I meant.  Resting his upper body on the pillows he reached back with both hands and pulled himself open for me.

“Do it, Tarik, take me now.  I’m ready.”

He was panting heavily, but so was I, completely overwhelmed by this picture in front of me - Sigur on his knees, waiting eagerly for me to claim him.  Suddenly I was drunk from desire for this man.

Wordlessly I lubed my cock up and put the head at Sigur’s glistening, twitching hole.  I wanted in there, so, so bad.

“Going to fuck you now,” I said hoarsely and began to push in.

My cock was a lot bigger around than my three fingers had been.  I had to exert quite a bit of pressure to just get the head in.  Sigur was back on elbows and knees, breathing harshly, trying to deal with my girth invading him.  His fingers were clawed into the sheets, the muscles in his strong, lean back tight with tension.

Despite my earlier words I entered him slowly, carefully, waiting for his channel to open up for me.  When it happened it felt amazing, like his insides were rearranging themselves to fit me.  His head was resting on the pillow, turned to the side.  I could see that his eyes were pressed shut and that there was sweat beading on his brow.  He was trembling ever so slightly; if I hadn’t been holding him up by his hips, he probably would have collapsed on the spot.

It was a heady feeling, having him under me like that.  This was how I needed it to be.  It would be so easy to break him now.  But that was not what I wanted, and I shook myself out of it.

Gently I rubbed the hard muscles of his back, waiting until he relaxed once more around me and the death grip of his hole on my cock lessened.  Then I withdrew a few inches and slowly pressed back in, aiming for that spot I had found with my fingers.

Sigur cried out, his voice rough and high, sounding almost like Malik in that moment.

“Yes, Tarik, just there!”  He pushed himself up and back at me.

Reaching around his chest I pulled us both up, so that he was practically sitting in my lap, my cock buried deep in his bowels.  He screamed again, as I unerringly found that spot inside him again.  With my left arm I held him against me, while my other hand went for his cock, jacking it leisurely in the rhythm of my thrusts.

Sigur’s head was thrown back against my shoulder, his long hair tangled up in mine, wheat-blond and dark strands clinging to our sweaty bodies.  I fucked him slowly, gently, wanting this amazing feeling to last.  He was moaning continuously, adding a little wheeze every time I bottomed out in him.

“So good,” he groaned.  “Oh, Tarik!  Oh, damn, please!  Come on, fuck me!  Just a little more!  I’m so close--”

His cock was leaking profusely now.  I jacked him faster, and suddenly his whole body seized up and his cock jerked, shooting come in long, thick spurts.  His ass was clamping down on me like a vise.  I sped up, slamming into him hard, and then I was there, too, filling his clenching hole with my seed.

It felt like I was falling apart, pieces of me whirling all over the place in some crazy dance, Sigur the only fix point in my universe.  Trembling with aftershocks, I held on to him almost desperately.  Still joined, we collapsed on the bed in a sweaty, panting heap.

When I regained my senses, he was holding me in his arms, casting me an exasperated glance.

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” he asked wryly.

“You’re doing that to me,” I said, drawing him in for a short kiss.  He watched me with those green-blue eyes of his that had entranced me from the beginning.  And I felt, well, a kind of remorse.

“Sigur,” I began haltingly, “I guess I’ve been a real bastard to you and—“

He interrupted me immediately.  “If this is going to be a long-winded apology, just stop it right there.  It’s not necessary, you know.”  He smiled at me, putting a rough hand on my scarred cheek.

I leaned into his touch for a moment before I continued.  “No.  I need to say this.  What I have done to – and what I intended to do to you - it’s inexcusable, and unforgivable.  I’ve been a total asshole.  It’s like you brought out all the dark dreams in me I never even knew I had.  Sigur, really, I am sorry.  Would you believe me if I told you it’s different now?”

Sigur raised one questioning brow.  “Are you saying you don’t want to hurt me anymore?”

Gods.  I blushed and lowered my gaze.  I couldn’t even look into his face right then.

He put a finger under my chin, tilting my head back up.

“Don’t,” he said.  “It would be a shame.  You were right, you know?  I do enjoy a little pain with my pleasure.  It may have taken me a while to accept it, but here I am.  And really, I got my revenge at you a long time ago.  We’re even, Tarik.  Stop beating yourself up about this.”

He reached into his backpack which was lying next to the bed, extracting a small package from it.

“You ever wonder what I was doing at that jeweler’s store?” he asked, throwing it to me.

I caught it and, at his nod, opened it.  Inside were two silver earrings, carved with intricate designs.  I looked at him quizzically.

“I bought those,” he explained.  “One for each of us.  If you want to, that is.”

Gods.  I had to swallow down the knot in my throat before I could actually reply.

“Of course I want to.  Very much so!  Here, put mine in.”  I offered him my right ear, figuring the earring would look better on the undamaged side of my face.

“No.  The other side.  It’s you, too, and I want it there,” he declared.

Well, if that was his wish, I wasn’t going to reason with him.  He pierced my earlobe with the hoop and clicked it shut.  It stung some, but not too much.  Then I did him, too.  He moaned quietly when the silver pierced his flesh.  I moved back and we regarded each other.

“Oh, hell, it suits you!” he breathed.  “Makes you look wild and dangerous!”

“Not like an ‘ugly bitch’ anymore?” I couldn’t help asking.

Sigur grinned unrepentantly.  “That was a total lie.  Don’t you know that?  Whatever I thought of your character, I found you pretty hot right from the beginning.  Irked me to no end.”

“I can’t possibly have been more annoying than you!” I declared, pinning him down onto the bed for dessert.

Afterward we cleaned each other up and lay back down, cuddling up closely.  There were many things to decide and to take care of yet, but they could all wait until morning.  Now we would just sleep together side by side, for the first time just the two of us.  The gods had been merciful in the end, and hopefully they would continue to cast a benevolent eye on us.  But that, my friends, is another story, for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, the final chapter. This has been a learning experience for me, and probably a test of your endurance, dear readers. To everybody who made it to the end, a heartfelt thank you for bearing with me.
> 
> Love and hugs, Di


End file.
